Back in Action

I was out last Thursday and Friday with a sinus infection and it actually feels good to be back in the office today. That may have something to do with the fact that I really have nothing else on TV to watch.  But the good news is, I'm fully caught up on Parks & Rec -- all of season 3 and what has aired of season 4, with the DVR set to record new episodes.  Yes, life is good.

In other news, I had a burst of energy last night.  This, coupled with the perfectly cool temperature outside, made me want to run.  I was actually feeling quite good on my run (never happens, hence I never run) and then my left knee started hurting.  It felt like a knife was jammed in there and all of my cartilage leaked out.  It still hurts today...like I'm taking the stairs one at a time.  For some reason, things like this always happen to me whenever running "feels good."

Example B: circa March 2007.  I was running in Shandon (Columbia, SC) and had been going a few miles...feeling really, really good.  Up ahead there was a large, cut down tree limb in the road.  For this excellent runner?  Not a problem.  I would easily jump the limb and continue with my proud and easy pace.  The limb wasn't the problem; the unseen pile of debris hiding behind the limb was the problem.  I landed on my left ankle with all of my body weight, somehow skinning my knee, and bruising my entire left leg in the process.

Of course there were some construction men watching all of this go down.  They couldn't have been nicer.  One (literally) picked me up and set me on the back of his truck, grabbing a clean cloth to wipe the blood off my shin.  The other ran inside to get me a bottle of water.  They offered to give me a ride home, but I hobbled the 1/3 or so mile home.  When I took my shoe off, a big blue ankle had replaced my previously white, kankle-free one.  My left ankle still acts up from time to time and I can especially feel it when it rains.  The plus to not having your foot fit in any of your shoes: wearing Crocs to work for a solid two weeks.

The moral of this story: I don't think I'm meant to be a runner.