Sunday, August 4, 2013


There are so many ways to approach the title of this post. . .

It was a beautiful morning, the sun was shining, it was 63 degrees--every necessary component for a successful eleven mile run with the Turtles.

"Look out for these nuts," Renee said.  "They are treacherous."    The nuts were covering the side of the road, slippery little suckers.  As soon as Renee warned us, I stepped on one and my right foot rolled in.  I saved myself from outright falling, but I knew as soon as I stopped that something was very wrong.


"Nuts!"  I said.  Ok, at this point if you know me at all, you know that I didn't say that, but hey, what if a kid is reading this?  I tentatively started walking, and the pain was intense.  Maybe you've stumbled or overextended a muscle and you knew that you would be ok in a few minutes?  Yeah, that wasn't me.  I KNEW that I had jacked myself up.  Again.

I told my fellow Turtles (who were kind enough to offer to run for a car for me) that I'd be able to make it to my own car (which was over two miles away).  They looked at me like I was nuts, and I realized that they were right when I limped to Szalay's Farm Market about a third of a mile away.  There was no way I could walk to my car.  I borrowed a cell phone from a kind couple on the Towpath ("What?" they said.  "You don't even own a cell phone?  That's nuts!"), and called my husband, who already thinks I'm. . . well, you know.

One trip to the emergency room later, and I know I'm going to go. . . batty (see what I did there?) from not running for two weeks AGAIN.  My foot is broken.

The good news is that the emergency room doctor thinks I'll be able to run in a couple weeks, but I have to see an orthopedic doctor right away to make sure I don't need surgery.

The bad news is that I already paid for the Perfect 10-Miler for next Sunday.

The good news is that this is my chance to be a SuperFan for the Turtles in the race next Sunday.

The bad news is that without running away from trouble, I may be driving those I love. . .