Uh huh.

On the other side of that lights out misery known as being a runner-cyclist-swimmer with an injury, I'm slowly returning to something resembling normality. I have setbacks, but that's just an opportunity for a comeback.

Which, of course, leads my mind to this gem:

"Don't call it a comeback... I been here for years!"

Okay... I'll spare you guys more of my terrible taste in hip hop. (To the hip, hop... agh... okay, sorry.)

The past couple of days have been breakthrough days for me with workouts. Yesterday, I went out for two miles and ended up with three. Today's swim felt pretty good, too, and included my longest interval since my injury, a 400. Not an earth shattering distance, by any measure, but a good length for me.

The bike is still sheer, slow, painful right now. I've lost between 2-3 mph. It's KILLING ME SLOWLY. I've gotta get faster. I tell myself repeatedly that I'm riding in some of the coldest, windiest conditions I've ever braved, weather that would've retired me to the warmth of the sofa and some Downton Abbey in the past.

Yet I feel strong. My quads have never looked like this.

And then there's the weight business. This is where I'll be as real as real can be.

I started religiously counting calories at the beginning of the month. I lost four pounds in about two weeks.

I've since gained two of that back. Out of nowhere.

And then I ate a piece too many of pizza tonight. I'm still under my calorie limit. But working out doesn't negate terrible nutrition.

So I'll keep this counting up. May as well... at least I know what I'm eating.

In other news, the cutest, surliest toddler on the planet, The Hobbes-it turns two Friday. TWO! TWO!?!? Can this truly be possible? Someone slow that kid down.