Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me.

Everything you need to know about running and life and any other random crap I find bouncing through my mind like a ping pong ball. And always be sure your shoes are happy.

Archive for the tag “walking cast”

Little Merry Sunshine

Things that did not happen in my house yesterday:

Despite laying everything out in the den and giving clear instructions, the Christmas tree did not fluff and decorate itself.

The clothes did not march downstairs, jump in the washer and then the dryer and return to their original starting positions.

Nor did the dishes do anything similar.

And the bed stubbornly refuses to make itself even thought I’ve repeatedly encouraged it.

The good thing is that everything I do takes half again as long while I lurch slowly up and down stairs, dragging three extra pounds around on my left foot.  This gives me hope that the extra time and weight will keep me fairly fit for the rest of my life since that’s how long it feels I will be in this boot.  I do see Dr. Wonderful 2 this morning so more on that later.  Personally I’m planning on him smacking himself in the forehead and exclaiming OMGOSH IT’S A MIRACLE YOU’VE BEEN HEALED, GO FOR A NICE LONG RUN! and you cannot convince me otherwise even with my foot still swollen and tender.  That’s just residue from the miracle.

Between 7-1/2 hours spent sitting in front my computer this weekend watching online modules so I can take a test to become a Certified Race Director (learning many important things such as runners should be able to see the START banner) whenever I realized I could no longer feel my butt – which (segue) by the way, has not tried to fall off once since I broke my foot.  Coincidence?  I think not.  I lean toward a conspiracy.  But more on that later, I’m still trying to figure it out and they know I’m sticking close, watching them –

Anyway, whenever I realized I could no longer feel my butt, sitting here peering blindly at the computer trying to find the sweet spot in my trifocals, I paused the video and did some laundry or washed dishes or something.  I know, I’m wild and crazy but there is no stopping me.  And I’ve decided that probably the tree could decorate itself but it’s just being helpful by giving me something to do, lurching about fluffing branches and trying in vain to kneel down on this boot to reach the lower branches, burn some calories there, Terri, get that HR up a bit.

So – ShuBootAh is being helpful too, making extra work for me.  OH – and – she is hot and I don’t mean whoa she’s fine.  That sucker holds the heat.  So I’m saving money on utilities also.

I have to say, I’m really pleased with all this positive thinking I have going on.  Most of the time I’m a bit cynical, but this morning I’m practically glowing with positivity.

You know who’s cynical even though they say they aren’t?  Hubs.  Hubs is cynical and you cannot convince me otherwise because I’ve seen his cynical eyeball roll about 1,237,698 times, and I think 1,237,657 of those were caused by me.

The other day he watched silently as I put ShuBootAh back on (I’d taken her off to get a break, putting my foot up for a minute).  I looked at him from the corner of my eye.  

“You thought I would not wear the boot like I should, didn’t you?”

He hesitated.  “I have to say, you are doing much better than I expected.”

Number of days in ShuBootAh: 18

Number of times I’ve thrown her across the room narrowly missing poor Murphy: 1

Number of days since I did so: 13

I’m like little freeking Merry Sunshine over here.

merry sunshine

Pride goeth before a fall. And after.

I was really pretty proud of myself.  I’m disappointed now, of course, but then I disappoint myself more than I make myself proud so I’m used to that.

But, then I considered the fact that I’d lasted much longer than I expected so I felt rather proud again.  Not really, really proud like, Oh, Look, I did an Ironman.  Or like Oh, Look, I invented something that will save lives.  More like, Oh, Look, I managed to not kick a kitten.

JUST KIDDING I would not kick a kitten.  You know, unless it got right in front of my foot when I was walking and I didn’t see it and it sailed through the air by accident, so I think that should not count.  Plus she’s just fine.  She’s like three years old now and still shows no adverse effects and also she was so damn tiny, I really did not see her.

I was so committed to being rational and patient, too.  I practiced thinking patient rational things.  I said them out loud to other people.  “Well, I’m just going to look at this as my reset button.”  “I’ll just wait until January and go back to the beginning.”  “This is probably a good thing to happen.  Maybe I’ve finally figured out the cause of all the issues.”

And I meant it.  I really did.  I listened to me talking and watched my brain, and brain was nodding in agreement.  Brain was all zen and calm and agreeing with everything we said.  I thought, wow, I’m actually calm.  I’m being calm and focused and not letting this upset me, and I felt proud of myself.

The thing that frustrates me, among about 10,000,000 other things, is that I suspect there are some people out there that never threw their boot across the room mentioning its very questionable parentage.

Pride goeth before a fall.

Yesterday  morning I thought, Oh, look, I’ve had this @#$%& – @#&(‘ing boot since Thursday and it’s Monday which is going on five days and I didn’t throw it across the room yet.

Just in case you ever need to know, the damn things don’t break easily.  This is probably a good thing, though, since I don’t want to have to call the grumpy receptionist at the podiatrist’s and tell her I broke my foot and my boot, please ma’am may I have another? because the way she sighs on the phone the papers on the other lady’s desk probably blow all over in a whirlwind and you know that would be my fault also.  

Pride goeth after the fall too.

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