Max Riffner

The Parlor

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Damn You, Tendon!

I can handle stupid blondes who play innocent as they so preciously need to get one car length ahead of me they’ll risk speeding down a merging lane. I can handle idiotic procedures, shoddy planning and passive-agressive communication all day. I can handle technology suddenly for no reason not working. I can handle some Ken doll suddenly crossing three lanes to go to the mall (again, innocently).

What I cannont handle though is my god damn Achilles tendon still injured after two weeks of rest because the only fucking way I can handle all of the above is to go really hard for 3-5 miles, especially after being inside all day while it is 70 degrees outside. I only made it a quarter mile before my tendon started throbbing in burning pain, despite my ignoring it. I have been injury-free for so long after too many early setbacks; it is a discipline with me to not overtrain or go too fast. I’m afraid my recent 5-mile accomplishment may have blinded me a bit, and now it seems I have to pay for pushing myself for another 2-4 weeks.

To make matters worse, my 55-year old father ran past me going the other way as he finished up his 5-miler.

I don’t see a whole lot of injured cyclists ever.

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