I am a walking disaster.

If you were to compile a list of things to do just days before a marathon, I can guarantee that unless you were compiling said list for someone you loathed, it would not contain the following item:

  • Bash your foot off of your friend’s baby gate with enough force to cause swelling and pain every time pressure is applied.

Except that’s exactly what I did yesterday.  I have been walking about on it (use it or lose it) and icing it with a chunk of frost from my minuscule freezer (I guess I can say I’ve defrosted part of the freezer as part of my super productive day), and it seems to be getting less painful, particularly in the shoes I’ll be running in.

Icing the foot - ignore the remains of a 6 month old pedicure.

Icing the foot – ignore the remains of a 6 month old pedicure.

Still, considering we all fly out tomorrow (!!!!!!!!!!), I had a lot of stuff to get done today. Stop one was the bank to let them know that if, oh I don’t know, a payment went through for a hotel in Paris, PLEASE so not block my card like you did when I went to Australia last!  I am assured that everything will run smoothly.  I will believe that when I am home.

Step two was groceries, because I am cooking up some killer pasta tonight.

Step three was travel insurance.  Essential.  Especially since I am such a klutz.  I mean, no more than 5 minutes after I left the travel shop with my insurance, did I manage to drop a shopping basket onto my nose.  I don’t know how either.  Unbelievable.  It is currently (hours later) still throbbing.  This is how I feel about what I have done to myself in the last 24 hours, which, by the way, are meant to be restful.  Relaxing.  Sedate.  Notice I did not say: self-destructive.

Feel free to admire my tinted lashes.

Feel free to admire my tinted lashes.

Still, I have managed to not tear a limb from myself so far, and I don’t really need to do anything too dangerous today, like peel a banana or use the toilet unaided, so hopefully I will not have to resort to drastic measures:

Screenshot 2013-04-03 at 15.01.14

 

In other news, two of our party of three (aside – that totally reminds me of ‘Party of Five’, which I loved) have decided to participate in the Breakfast Run, a 5k on the Saturday morning before the marathon on the Sunday.  Runners are encouraged to represent the countries they come from.  Luckily, Amazon does next day delivery, so now I have the flag, the tights, and the leotard to assault the eyesight of many with my stars, and stripes, and more stars:

906779_148872881956141_231277597_oUnfortunately, with all the errand running today I didn’t have time for the yoga class I was going to go to, but that’s maybe a good thing, since yoga and I do not really get along.  In fact, my yoga experience can be summed up in one image:

yogaHere’s to a relaxing and SAFE rest of the week (and beyond).  To everyone running Paris on Sunday, I’ll be the black and blue one!

 

 

16 thoughts on “I am a walking disaster.

  1. You have my sympathy. I’m trying to recover from a particularly nasty attack of gout in my big toe. Every time I think it’s mended, I get out for a couple of runs, everything goes fine and then a day later it’s back again. I have an 11k trail in two months and I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to get trained for it and if I do whether I’ll even be able to run it. Good luck with your foot and your race!

  2. Mmm, I hear you. I jumped a high fence two days ago because I didn’t want to walk 200 yards back the way I came to go through the proper exit of a train station. It was awkward, I bruised my thigh and arse, and I got yelled at by a Monsieur who chose to take offense.
    By now you must be in France, so I hope you’re well rested. My train only pulls in to Paris past midday so I’m missing the P’tit Dej run. Have fun and take it easy on that foot!
    Above all, good luck for Sunday! =) “See you” there.

    • Where did you even find that out?! And while I can find no satisfactory translation, I am comfortable using ‘le boom’. No idea how I pulled that off with 1 run/week, and I felt like I was taking an easy jog… until about mile 17. Then quads started hurting. Could not be happier! Texas, watch out!

  3. Pingback: Paris Marathon 2013 | Medal Slut

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