Oh yeah, because my job was non-existent.
Friday morning, I woke up 20 minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I felt good, so I took it as a sign, "Get your ass out of bed, and run!" I'm struggling with fitting everything I want to do into my schedule these days, and exercise has been what I've cut out. And it's starting to show. So, I threw on my work out clothes, and was out the door.
I felt good while I ran. It'd been a few weeks, but I hadn't lost all my increased ability. I didn't have too long to run, so I kept it to about a mile and half. I'd gone as far out as I was planning, and had turned to start heading back home. Until I stepped on a seed pod the exact density of a bocce ball, heard my ankle "crack" before skidding to a stop on my hands and knees. I yelled a string of profanities, then looked up to see a 10 year old kid standing there watching me. Oops.
What a delightful way to start the day. My ankle quickly swelled up to an unsightly bulge and my knees were scraped up and bleeding. And I still had to get back home.
So, I hobbled as quickly as I could, got home in time to shower, throw on clothes and barely get to work on time.
No righteous deed goes unpunished.
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1 comment:
Aw, that kid'll hurt itself someday in a similar manner, and will come to a full understanding of why you did what you did. You poor thing! Hope you're feeling better...
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