Broken

My arm is still broken.  Sadly I'm not, in fact, a wolverine, and will take time to heal.  But the doctor says I'm on track to be riding outside in a week, and racing shortly thereafter.  I'm stuck, in the meantime, on the trainer, whining about life.  Fortunately, the trainer seems to be the only place I do whine.  I am strangely and magically content.  I'm getting taken care of above and beyond anything I deserve.  And my attempts at independence are taken in stride, not ridiculed.  I'll probably escape without loosing too much fitness as well.

We took a distraction trip to NYC last week.  No rules, no agenda, and only toothbrushes were brought.  I ate awesome pastries and spent too much money on shoes.  But there were happy carefree moments that reminded me I'm loved.  I've never been happier to not have a plan.
I leave for CO in a week.  Can't believe it's actually here.  I'm nervous about the logistics, but still content that I'll be ok.
And beside, a cross country move wouldn't be exciting enough if I were healthy.