For your viewing pleasure, I submit further evidence of my total and abject running dorkdom. I will be sporting this for the next several nights. Hot, no? I plan on wearing it the next two nights of until I can actually bear weight on my heel or tolerate a stiff breeze blowing past it. Oh yeah, there's tons of breezage in my heel region. Yours too, right?
Now, for the totally geeky cool part. My daddy-o, saint that he is, went to the local running store to pick up that hot messiness for me. When he mentioned he was buying it for his daughter, the salesclerk said "Oh, you must mean Runner Girl ." (Except, of course, she used my real name.) I s'pose I should share that Coach Crazylegs, who seems to know every darn tootin' person in the local running community, had called her and spoken to her about my condition. Still, if only for a few fleeting moments, I actually felt almost famous! As Sally Fields sort of said: They know me! They really know me! Now, if only I could be known for some act of great selflessness or human achievement rather than a running injury. Still, I'll take what I can get.
And, yes, I'm still planning on a 20-miler in less than forty-eight hours. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.
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