May 6, 2008

I ran so hard I bled.

I'd feel awesome saying that if it weren't utterly true and completely painful, and if I hadn't had to take two sick days and pay $50 for a prescription ointment. I hate that word. Ointment. Ew.

So, I'm still in NP, lying about in the backyard with Maggie and drinking coffee and eating sesame breadsticks. It's rather delicious living, if it weren't for these pesky wounds.

Once I can walk like a normal person again it'll feel extremely gold star to say, "Yeah, I ran a half marathon once." And when I'm sitting comfortably for an extended period of time and I kind of forget that I have to walk like John Wayne whenever I want to get anywhere, it's completely great to think back on this weekend and our swank hotel in the ghost town of Asbury Park, and how whenever I looked over my shoulder I couldn't see the end of the line of runners, that's how many there were, and Mr. Yang buying us matching jackets, and that bacon-and-egg sandwich in that cafe on the beach, and the pure joy of that chocolate milk in the tent after the race...

But I've just washed my hair for the first time in three days (it's still too painful for me to take a shower), and the thought of wearing heels is laughable, utterly laughable, and I must take it slowly, very slowly, one trip to the kitchen at a time.

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