I told my psychiatrist that everyone hates me. He said I was being ridiculous — everyone hasn't met me yet. ~Rodney Dangerfield


Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Fractured

My doctor diagnosed me with a stress fracture and told me that the recovery period was 6-8 weeks.

My attorney thinks he can get me off in 5.

With
 a running career that spans 12 years, 4 marathons, and over 10,000 miles, I suddenly find myself sidelined by the lamest of all sports injuries. It could have been the bad shoes, it could have been the uneven terrain, it could have been the years of an odd running technique described most acurately by my little brother as that of an "ambitious Velociraptor," (for the non-runners that means I run on my toes) but mid run a small section of my third upper metatarsal simply no longer wished to be connected to the lower portion.

Did you know evidence of stress fractures has been found in dinosaur bones

But it's not all bad. Like every woman, I love shoes, and I've gotten some brand new foot wear out of the deal. Gone are my stiletto heels and in their place is a stylish hard-soled, velcro-strapped foot brace. The foot brace not only helps to reduce the impact of weight bearing movement on my injury, it also gives me the seductive gait of a peg-legged pirate. Oh, and it prevents me from getting laid for the next 6-8 weeks.