Secret training

Thanks to my neighbor, I went out on a secret training mission after work tonight. I'm calling it secret training because some readers would not approve. Also, it's a gray area as to whether or not my doctor would approve. I called to ask about secret training on Monday, and haven't heard from him, so I assumed that it wasn't an urgent concern of his -- and I have to do something until I can ride again! Anyhow, I'm not at liberty to discuss the particulars, but thanks to said training, I've now given myself an injury that may prove more debilitating than my broken wrist.

No, I haven't broken any more bones. Instead, I strained my thighs so badly that I've been limping around town and stumbling like a drunk down the stairs in my building. The injury, in the words of Jean Girard, "is one of ignorance and pride!"

It's true, of course. There were others involved in this secret training, and I couldn't let them train harder or faster than me. But, because said training had nothing to do with bikes, my body really wasn't up to the task I asked of it, hence the new injury. So it goes, I'll feel better in a day or two, likely in time to hurt myself all over again. I just hope my sweaty cast dries out before then!

Unrelated note: For anyone keeping score, I've now convinced two (3) people that I broke my arm in a bar fight; a CVS pharmacist, a trivia DJ, and a barfly. Perhaps I look more menacing than I feel?