Agh, my ankle

You know, I was told that you could injure yourself doing this kind of stuff, but I just didn't believe it . . .that was of course, until my ankle started acting up.

At first, I still didn't believe it. I mean, conceptualizing finishing these runs as you're running them is like playing the role of Tantalus. So naturally, being as honest as I am, I assumed initially that I was faking it--or imagining it, what have you.

After a tantalizing thirty-six minutes on the run, I threw in the towel, and called it a day.

Immediately, a wave of disappointment--uncanny in resemblance to my incredibly sensitive conscience--devoured me, and I was lost in oblivion. But only for a moment, then I did a full upper body workout and finished by trying to redeem myself with some laps in the pool.

On the way home, I picked up some more IcyHot and took an Ibuprofen. That seemed to work--I hardly noticed my ankle throughout the day, so I made a second attempt after work. This time, after only about five minutes on the treadmill, I felt assured of my injury.

Now, I'm going to wrap some ice packs around my ankle and elevate it above my heart.

141 Days left . . .