So, I am injured. I think it’s a stress fracture. In my head. Okay, that’s not true. It’s in my foot. My running foot. Well, I actually run with two feet. That is to say, both of my feet. Needless to say, I am going crazy. It’s not fun. I love to run. It makes me happy. And while I am living, I aim to maximize my happiness.
Injuries are like happiness assassins. They’re like “oh, you like to run? Yeah, well, take that!” POW! BOOF! SPLAT!
And then I’m injured.
And no, I am still young. Don’t you dare.
And no, I don’t do too much. That’s plain ol’ poppycock.
Right now, I am running in my mind. It’s soooo nice in here.
Jessica says that I should lay on the bed, on my back, and rotate my legs and arms so it “feels” like I’m running.
I told her to stuff it.
Because, you know, we love each other.
A sampling of that love:
Happy running, idiots.