In Case You Were Wondering, My Foot is Still Being a Jerk

The weekend is almost over readers. How am I celebrating? By fighting off the cold I have managed to get and eating Thin Mints, sold to me by the awesome girl scouts at my local grocery store (I was doing really well with losing weight too). I’ve completed three weeks of classes so far, and in my upcoming week I have a paper to write and an exam to study for (I should probably stop commenting on how little work I have before I’m given a whole bunch more).

Writing this post is a bit premature. Tomorrow, I am seeing my second specialist (third if you count the urgent care people) and she will be making the final call as to whether or not I will be having surgery this summer. I’ve been given two cortisone shots to make my foot feel better, but so far, it hasn’t taken the hint. It still thinks it is cool to cause me unnecessary pain from simply walking across campus. However, I cannot complain too much, because I went back to the gym on Friday for the first time in months. I did a 5k stimulation on the treadmill and completed it in forty minutes. I don’t know if that is good or not, but I’m going to say it is, to make my broken foot feel better.

Luckily for me, I’ve never been the athletic sort. I’ve been an avid runner on my own, but never with a team. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to me a part of team sports. I just happened to be dangerous.

When I was still required to take P.E. for school, people never wanted to be on my team. I had a habit of hurting the people on my side. Once, when I was playing dodge ball, I threw the ball and managed to hit someone on the back of the head—on my own team. I gracefully bowed out with what little dignity I had left.

 

If it isn't obvious, I've always been more of a scholar,
with my Honor Chord and NHS membership

That’s not the only time I’ve been known for my bad aim. We used to play this game in gym, where one person would stand in the middle of a circle and throw balls at the other players in an attempt to get them out. Whoever was the last one standing won the “honor” of being in the middle (yes, they told me being in the middle was a good thing).
 

One day, I was that lucky person who ended up in the middle. At first, my classmates ran away, in an attempt to avoid getting hit. When it dawned on them that my aim was nowhere close to getting anyone out, they just stood there. In the middle of the gym. They didn’t even try to dodge my balls. They just stood there. After about five minutes of me being in the circle by myself and not getting anyone out, one of the boys took pity on me and joined me in the circle. After that, we started getting people out—okay he did. In a class of thirty, I hit one person. By accident. I was aiming for someone else.

I never wanted to go into gym class again.

 

My best friend is high school was the exact opposte. She did cross country and track. 







 

When my foot heals up—be it on its own or surgery—I’m going to run an actual 5k with my mom. There’s one at the end of March I had hoped to do, but I have a bad feeling that I won’t be cleared to run something like that (in all honesty, I probably shouldn’t have even gone to the gym). My mom and I have also started a tradition of doing the Incline every summer. This will mark our third time doing it.

 

 

In case you’re not a Colorado native, the Incline in a one-mile long flight of stairs. That doesn’t sound so bad, right?

Wrong. The Incline is mean.

Extremely mean.







That's a false top, by the way.

I hope to hear good news tomorrow, but I’m not fully hopeful. Either way, I will be doing a 5k at some point this year.

Cheers!