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Please Avoid Commentary on My Toenails

April 19, 2016

It's Monday morning.  I wake up around 6:30 AM to sunshine pouring into my windows, birds singing their most glorious song because these are truly the first few days of Spring, and I begin to remember my ankle.  Oh right - I think to myself - that was really painful last night.  I notice that I'm lying halfway on my stomach, and my ankle is currently in a dorsiflexed position (side note: Wix wants to auto-correct that word to "oversexed").  Well that's good - I think to myself again - maybe all the swelling went down over night and I'll be back to normal today.

Unfortunately that isn't the case.  Two days later and I'm still not exactly walking.

 

Rewind to Friday night.  I'm in my tent, camped out on a plush Ikea synthetic comforter, a purple yoga mat that I acquired after Seattle Running Company closed up to become Fleet Feet Seattle, and my 0-degree Marmot sleeping bag.  Yum.  For some reason I find few things more cozy than cuddling up in my sleeping bag in my tent.  And for how comfortable I was, I slept not at all.  Instead of sleeping, my mind decided to go absolutely berzerk thinking about all the fast-looking women I'd seen gathering at the campground, fretting about how my stomach would fair during the impending race, wondering if I'd eaten enough food all day and at dinner.  Around 3:30 AM I prop myself up to check the time.  Hmm, okay, two hours til my alarm goes off; I guess that's good; I figured it'd be time to get up by now.  I put the phone back down.  And naturally, I pass out.

 

5:05 AM: it sounds like a zoo outside my tent.  The campground is buzzing.