I made it! I dragged myself out of bed and down to the gym. And I did not just make it there. Oh no. I even exercised. SOMEONE GIVE THIS WOMAN A MEDAL. To my relief, everyone had their arses safely tucked inside their pants this morning, and my training there was as vanilla as it usually is. I'll take vanilla over half-naked arses any time.
|Recycled photo, because why not.|
Then I ran home, taking a detour so that I'd run the 8km my training schedule dictated. Although I could see the sun coming up on the horizon, in the part of the sky directly over my head floated snow clouds that dumped tiny little delicate white flakes on my head and in my nostrils. I listened to music but I also listened to my body. How was my foot doing? Was it tense or was I imagining things? I spent half the day yesterday massaging it frantically and I wondered if that actually made it worse. Can a tendon be too supple? I obsessed. If I got distracted for a second, like if a great song came on, the foot went quiet. But if I paid it any attention, I got paranoid. Is my foot an attention whore? Is this a cry for help?
Well, as long as it doesn't hurt, eh?