Ball of my Right Foot.
Cause: playing an unexpected game of racket ball in shoes not exactly designed for racket ball. My dad challenged me to a game while we were at the YMCA yesterday. Not wanting to let my shoes serve as my excuse, I accepted.
Status: really really fucking sore.
Cause: you know, things started off well for me in that racket ball game. I creamed my dad (who is 59 years old I might add) 21-7 in the first game. I was all prepared to give him a pep talk -- you know, the "it's ok to lose a game of racket ball to your son, who is not only nearly half your age, but also happens to be a professional athlete and spends all his time working out -- dad, you you haven't been inside a gym in like nine months, so cut yourself some slack" talk. However, it appears the old man was just a tad rusty, and once he started putting his old "special sauce" on that serve of his, he had me sprinting around the court like a blind jack rabbit, swinging wildly, missing shot after shot, and making my calves extremely fucking sore in the process. He crushed me the next two games 21-3 and 21-4. Nice work old man. There shall be a rematch.
Status: totally blown.
Cause: some heavy duty training. Thanks to my team mate and killer training partner Kai Applequist, I've been getting some extremely high-quality training in. We knocked out some real hard indoor intervals earlier in the week, and I was almost ready to puke today the final time we climbed up to Lucky Peak sitting on Kai's wheel today. Thanks for the suffering Kai.
Status: pretty much pain free!
Cause: all that time I've spent strengthening my muscles, and working with our new PT. I still get the occasional pain, but it's no longer slowing me down in training. Boo-Yeah!
Status: really sore too.
Cause: see calves.
Status: also really sore!
Cause: I hammered out a pretty burly core workout at the YMCA right before I played racket ball -- this must have been the reason for my loss. Yeah -- it was my tired core muscles that allowed my dad to score 19 unanswered points in our second game.
Cause: shitloads of hard breathing.
Status: mildly sore.
Cause: I guess my racket arm is about as rusty as my return.