Blogger down, treadmill casualty!
I took a misstep of one of the PlaySkool-brand treadmills last night. It feels like the toes on my right foot might have caught between the back roller and the frame. They were trying to talk over the endorphins without much luck, as I'd been going at it for about an hour. It ached pretty well after that, although it didn't keep me from sleeping.
Normally I don't care much for treadmills, but the step-machine was out of the question. The thing looks like two used shock absorbers tied to some old shoe-store Yeti-foot measures, plus some oversized ski poles and an old oven timer strapped on. I'm not sitting down with spreadsheets to compare products on the market, but come on. You might as well give me a map of all the staircases in this fair city.
Walking this morning was p-a-i-n-f-u-l. Fucking oy! I taped it up at lunch and man, so much better. Feet are important.
The last pain I can remember with a built-in reminder system was in '91, I think, some separated ribs taken from the ever-cutthroat world of faculty-staff noon-hour basketball. Pretty much everyone who isn't getting laid regularly is out there; it's aggressive. Not my most painful time in the last 16 years, but easy to remember every time I breathed.
If it's looking all ugly purple and swollen tonight I'll grace y'all with a picture.