Somehow a boy from Goose Creek has made it to 37 with no ink. That will change next year when I hear those badass words “Wesley Donehue, you are an Ironman.”  A few hours later, or maybe the next day, I’ll get my very first tattoo – the Ironman logo.

I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch though, especially after this week. I have a long way to go. And God only knows how many injuries will set me back along the way.

Training has been going well. On a scale of 1 – 10, I’ve gone from a one to a three in the pool, thanks to private lessons from my badass trainer, Chris. I simply cannot rave about Endurance Farm enough. Check them out here. I’m swimming three times a week, two of which are private lessons.

I’ve cut back a great deal on running. I’m running four times a week for about 20 miles. Nothing big. Also, I’ve slowed down A LOT to stay in an aerobic zone. I wrote about that a bunch just a few weeks back. Basically, I’ve gone so hard for three years that I’ve overtrained in an anaerobic zone and totally crushed my base. Now is the time to take a step back and start over.

Recently, I bought a pretty nice Felt tri bike and I took it out for the third time this past Sunday. This ride was also my third brick training, which is when you stack multiple sports in a training session. In this case, I had planned on riding and running. I’ve been trying to ride 13 – 15 miles and then run 3 – 5 miles, about the distance of a sprint triathlon.

Unfortunately, chaos ensued on Sunday when I was racing home as fast as I could. I was scheduled to watch the boys while Elizabeth did some church thing. About half a mile from home… I hit something. Perhaps it was a pot hole, I’m not really sure what it was, but I lost my balance and just remember the front wheel going nuts. I knew I was going down, so instead of putting my hands straight down, I tried rolling. It didn’t work out very well since my entire left side hit the pavement hard, with my left elbow taking the brunt of the force. I laid bloody on the side of the road for a few minutes until a dude on a moped came by and helped me up. I got back on the bike with blood dripping everywhere and road home.

I’m pretty banged up, but luckily not seriously injured. The scrapes are healing nicely but there’s a big ole chunk of meat missing from my elbow. It looks like ground beef. And I can barely move my elbow at all. Ugh…

That means I’m out of the pool, out of the gym and out of bootcamps for at least a week. I doubt I can get into the right position to bike either since I can’t put pressure on my left arm. I’m going to try running a good 20 miles this week. Wish me luck…

It feels like it’s always something setting me back. As soon as I feel good physically and get into the right mindset, something goes wrong.

Before I sign off, one more quick thing. I’m attempting the ketogenic diet again. I’m currently on day 4. Eating right has been pretty easy because I eat healthy anyway and rarely have a sweet tooth. However, not having beer is killing me. I mean, I work in a craft brewery. It’s effing torture. I drank a couple of vodka sodas this weekend and last night I drank two straight shots of mezcal. I guess for now… I’ll just have to drink straight liquor like a hardcore baller. Fake it till you make it, baby!

Fake it till you make it.