Welcome friends, so a somewhat sombre edition on the Words. Whilst the departure from the usual paltry pun-fest may provide welcome relief for some readers, eager to finally savor some narrative with less gags than Joseph Fritzl’s basement (Yeah, that’s right, I’m going dark humor here!), rest assured, it’s a temporary syntactical structure.
The vindication for such disconsolation is quickly evident with my DNS down at the Oceania Champs on the weekend. Optimistically earmarked as the lighting of the touch-paper which was to initiate some early season form whose march was to lead me to the Old Dart, it would seem another curveball has been thrown my way in the Yankee Stadium that has been the last 12 months.
The curveball this time comes in the form of a stress reaction in my pubis bone, and will delay my start of racing for another month or two. Thankfully the progression of the malady was halted short of a full blown stress fracture, this will mean a few weeks off running, and some more quality time spent with the chlorine, Cannondale, and bicep curls.
Whilst the first race back is not yet inked, and will no doubt be at the hands of the Rehab God’s, I like the rest of the tri pundits out there, will watch with interest in the fight for the remaining Olympic spots, with Kung Fu Sexton no doubt raising a hand very high with a dominating performance down in Tassie.
Take care friends,
Willy
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