What a week... It started with a visit to my physical therapist. Remember the fine finish on my first (and only) tri? Well, that hamstring/glut injury has been persistent these past months and has gotten worse with the increased training for the upcoming event. The PT was not encouraging. He said that I "had no business being in a triathlon." The thing is: he meant "ever" - declaring that after asking my age. Really? What would my girlfriends say to that? I keep thinking back to our exchange, wondering if he deserves a visit from a couple of my "friends" to set him straight.
To be honest, I am under the influence right now. No, it's not alcohol or drugs (prescriptive or otherwise). I am not even overdosing on Vitamin C. For the past 5 days I have been laid up with an ugly stomach flu. If anyone needs to find me, look under the pile of blankets and pillows on the family room sofa. Follow the moans. Approach at your own risk. It's not a pretty sight. I am so light-headed that I can barely sit upright for long. I am just about now getting around to reading and using my computer. For the most part I am entertained by a daily immersion into this week's presentation of "The Godfather" movies in celebration of the 40th anniversary of the first production.
How much have I watched? The tally reads: "The Godfather I, II, and III" twice each, and once through the 9-hour chronologically-ordered saga. I love it. Maybe it's my New York Italian roots. OK- the violence is disturbing, but there is a certain essence to the distinct culture of food and family and loyalty. I lie here struggling with the thought that the Tucson Triathlon is only 3 weeks away, and I am on a diet of rice and jello. Oh, Godfather, I don’t know what to do! (Remember Johnny Fontaine's line?) The don does not stand for any wimpy attitude, but I do not find an answer because I am not really ready to withdraw from the race.
I decide that Clemenza is my favorite character. The man loves his food. He does not go to the San Rocco festival without picking up a sausage-and-peppers hero from a street cart, even in the middle of dealing with a problem like Fanucci. He cooks! He shows Michael how to make a sauce ("gravy") from scratch with the best of traditional ingredients. (There is always crispy Italian bread on hand to dip for a tasty snack.) The man has his priorities. My favorite line in the movie? Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.
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