Say it isn't True

Screeching Halt!

I mentioned yesterday my week ended with a bird shitting on me. Yet it wasn't my worst moment. 

My cough still haunts me.....and apparently everyone at work yesterday. While doing a lot of conversion work for our new system, my hacking in front of 400 folks wasn't well taken. 

I'll give them that. I'm not infectious or contagious, I just sound like a dying man. 

And on Tuesday evening, my foot started to feel sore. By Wednesday, after a three mile run, it was way worse. 

I immediately went to: stress fracture or shin splints. I jinxed myself the other day when I said I've never had the latter. And honestly, I don't know exactly what they're supposed to feel like. 

I still don't. The pain is too low for shin splints. 

It's allegedly neither of my self-diagnosis, but good old tendinitis. Old being the operative word. 

The PA-C, Jackson Brown, who saw me, said I shouldn't run for at least two weeks.  I heard "one".  I'm sure I'll listen to my body and all, but in the meantime, I'm naproxin-ing the shit out of it. 

It turned out that I couldn't this weekend anyway, due to I get to work ALL weekend. Maybe it's the pain killer, maybe it's the fact I sat for 10 hours yesterday with little to no exercise at all - but my foot, while not great, already feels better. 

I get with age and activity, I'm an injury risk waiting to happen, but I'm still bummed. 

Song by: Jackson Browne