So I said there’s no time for any more jacking around, right? I said there was no time for getting sick and no time for injuries? I’m sure hat’s what I said yesterday morning.
So what did I do yesterday afternoon? Smashed my toe into the steel leg of the couch, is what I did. It’s nice and purple today. And fat. And, of course, the right thing to do when you have a fat, purple toe is to keep stubbing it against things as you go about your business.
And today? What did I do today? Well, today I thought it would be a great idea to bring my great, big and very sharp chopping knife down on my finger while I chopped vegetables for the earthworms.
Oh well. You don’t need fingers for running. And I have walked a 50 km race with a palm needle in my foot (yes, that’s palm needle, not pine needle – they’re particularly nasty, those palm needles). Clearly runners don’t need toes, either.
The problem is just, if things come in threes, do I have a big ouch lurking in the shadows, waiting to nab me? Maybe I should wear steel-capped boots on tomorrow morning’s run. For now, I think a glass of wine will be the best remedy – to ease the pain in my toe and my finger, see.