We're back from the cabin. No more beautiful beach walks...
...or hikes up frozen rivers...
...or adventuring through the woods at the cabin.
No "skating" on frozen ponds while the dog looks on in bemused horror...
...and no more walks with my parents and their
sweater-clad little yippers sweet little dogs...
My Dad has a pocketful of treats
We've packed up our mountain of crap...
...and returned to the land of furnaces and TV and Target. It was a fun vacation, and great to spend Christmas with my whole family. Unfortunately, now that we're home and I have a lot of stuff to do (including continuing to train for the upcoming Masters Single Distance meet on January 5-6), I'm sick as a dog--that is, if the dog has some horrid sinus-type-thingy that's trying to move south to become a horrid bronchial-type-thingy. By the way, who decided that dogs are the yardstick of illness? My dog is almost never sick (except for the occasional grazing-induced barf). So I don't understand the "sick as a dog" thing. Now, "dog tired" makes sense. This is what Keira has been doing pretty much non-stop since we got home from the cabin two days ago:
Yes, she's alive..we check occasionally for breathing.
Despite illness, last night's workout was great. Wednesday night I quit my workout early (like, after 6 laps) because I felt so lousy, so last night I didn't have anything planned; I figured I'd just play it by ear. I ended up doing fast 200's ("candycanes") behind a variety of faster skaters. It was a beautiful night--snowing, calm, and you could still see the full moon through the clouds--and my legs felt great. The cabin is wonderful, but it's nice to be home!
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