Week Twelve and a half: emotional rollercoaster

I am not a lover of rollercoasters.  I’m so prone to travel sickness that most fairground rides leave me regretting I got on them in the first place.  Some great exciting things happened this week.  One really awful thing happened this week.  I’m not quite over the disorientation yet, but I think it’s time to write about this week.

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Week Twelve: MOT fail

I won the Edinburgh Triathletes Club Championship last year, and got this rather splendid trophy: look it has my name on it!  It is a little large for drinking malt whisky from, but I gave it a good go on the awards night.  In truth I sort of won it by default: I competed in more of the club’s target races than any other lady, so it actually didn’t matter how well I did.  In most years the competition is a bit fiercer, and I wouldn’t normally stand a chance.  But hey, I’m proud of my achievement!  I’ve never won anything for sports before, so this means a lot.  The reason I mention this fantastic achievement, in passing you understand, is purely because part of the prize was the physiotherapy equivalent of an MOT check, which I finally claimed this week.  (MOT = car safety and roadworthiness test in the UK).photo (10)IMG_0517 Continue reading “Week Twelve: MOT fail”