December 2, 2004


I was doing all right. Finished all of my reading. Almost done with the con law outline. Not too stressed and feeling like I had a decent schedule planned out for the next few weeks.

Last night, we moved up another notch on the gift-sushi ranking and received fried hamachi head as the chef's addition to date night. Seemed like a good omen.

Today, after a leisurely morning of studying for a bit, I left for a 6 mile run. At mile 1.5, I veered off the path to avoid two soccer mom-type women who were walking and talking abreast, taking up the ENTIRE path. Immediately after passing them, I rolled my ankle on the uneven terrain.

I stopped and must have grunted in pain because they turned around to ask me, "oh, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right, my ankle hurts, my running schedule is going to be all messed up for finals, and now I have to go home instead of finishing my run. I can't help but feel that this is partially your fault for not understanding trail etiquette--if you see someone coming, go single file 'til they pass!"

Okay, so I didn't really say that. But I wanted to. Instead I told them I was fine, tested it out, and decided to run the 1.5 miles home to try to beat the swelling.

Now I've got ibuprofen in my system, ankle wrapped for swelling, and I'm off to H's for a day of studying. Any pull you have with the healing gods would be much appreciated over here.

No comments: