Incompatabilities

There are some things that are just naturally compatible:   peanut butter & jelly, Bert & Ernie, tequila and memory loss.   Then there are other things that just don’t get along.

This first picture is my 20 week marathon training plan for the St. Jude Marathon.   In case you haven’t read any more of this blog, I am going to attempt to run a Boston Marathon qualifying time of 3 hours and 20 minutes at this race.   And this plan starts tomorrow.

This next picture is my right foot with a strained/broken little toe.   And that happened yesterday.

For those who remember the old Sesame Street days, you can now sing the song “One of these things doesn’t belong here.”   And it isn’t the plan!

So I guess I better fill you in on how my foot ended up in this condition.   Through miscellaneous celestial rearrangements and the tides going in the proper direction (not sure about the blue moon yet), Christine and I ended up with a Saturday to ourselves.   Both kids were at the Rock the River concert, so we had a free day.   And that is when I asked Christine what she wanted to do.   Her first response, “Lay out by the pool.”   Fine.   I knew my duty.

I quickly went and dressed in my red satin speedo, grabbed the serving tray complete with white towel on my arm, and began my duty as cabana boy.   Somewhere between serving her 4th or 5th sour apple martini while she was aggravated at my lack of speed, I caught a pool chair with my foot.   As any good pool boy would do, I showed no sign of injury and smiled the entire time.   It was only later, in the solitude of my pool boy quarters, that I was able to ascertain the extent of my injuries.   Not good.   Not good at all.

Okay.   That was all a lie.   Except for the laying out by the pool part.   We decided I should get my shiny white chest in the sun for a while before heading to the beach this weekend.   I have a runner’s tan going, so my neck, arms and leg look fine.   The rest has a brightness level of 107 (according to the copy paper comparison.)

While laying on our chairs (the patio chair with the vinyl strips), I attempted to get up to cool off in the pool.   Either my foot went through the straps and my little toe didn’t, or my foot went through and my little toe caught the bar.   It doesn’t really matter which one because the end result was the same.   At least this time, it was not facing 90 degrees to the right.   So I jumped in the pool and cooled off.

By nighttime, after going to eat and to the Swamp Pop Music Festival, my toe was looking pretty psychedelic.   Oh well.

What does this mean in the grand scheme of things?   You will have to go to the Running on Faith website for the continuation of the story.

Tags: Broke toe, marathon, speedo, suffering