Cabin fever

Day two of house arrest. Yesterday I stayed home from work, just to be on the safe side and not let the light fever develop into something more serious. I was climbing the walls – only figuratively speaking, unfortunately. It was a beautiful day outside, and I was stuck indoors, restless and not really feeling up to doing anything except RUNNING. Because, of course I would obsess over it, given that I can't do it.

Try not to think of a pink elephant. That's all you're thinking about now, isn't it?

I wouldn't have managed a metre, of course. Despite my restlessness, I am exhausted. Just not sick enough to accept the fact that I have to rest. I did my planned sit-ups and then the dishes. It was about all I could do, before I resigned to the fact that my mind is willing but my body is not.

Today is shaping up to be one of the same. I've been trying to amuse myself with quotes about running (my favourite so far, a marathon sign: ”Your feet are hurting because you're kicking so much ass”). But instead of quenching my running thirst, they're only making me feel parched. I want to run. In the woods. In my VFFs. On a warm summer evening. Or, hey! I'll run in a hailstorm, if I have to. JUST LET ME RUN.

Some good (-ish) news. I've been stretching my evil foot in a new way, which has pretty much removed the soreness from the heel. That, coupled with the obligatory rest, seems to be helping a lot. But something mysterious is happening instead. The inside of my foot, from the arch up towards the ankle, hurts when I turn it in certain angles, though never while I'm running. It feels like something in there gets torn every time I turn my foot outwards. It's been like this for a couple of months, but it got worse yesterday.

Isn't rest supposed to make you feel better? What is this strange, sharp pain, and where does it come from? Is it a bi-product of my plantar fasciitis or did I twist my foot while running and don't remember it? I'm baffled...