When you sustain an injury while swimming, they either call you nancy-boy or . . . well, they just call you nancy-boy.
You'd think it wasn't possible, but at metre 75 I slammed my hand into the wall so hard it gashed open my swear finger and took half the nail off the other. After the lifeguard on duty provided a fourth bandage, the bleeding stopped sufficiently to allow a few hundred more meters.
My body is very tired, but my technique and stamina are progressing . . . except for the bike, that is. The last time I was on it I wiped out. At least I now have a new helmet which I hope to take for its maiden voyage tomorrow.
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