30+ DRC 248

This is a little test that I'm trying.

I once tried typing up a post on my iPhone . . . didn't work out so well. I just want to see how this post up later.

The last few runs have been getting better. Each day an improvement. I'm hoping by next week, I can start running the two miles regularly and slowly bump it up again.

The Santa Cruz Half Marathon is in April and I'd like to be able to run that one. Gotta get better and increase my mileage for obvious reasons.

The problem area has shifted from my knee (kinda) to my outer thigh. More of an ache though, because that muscle has been compensating for whatever I originally screwed up.

Also when I used to start out my runs, my ankle would want to stiffen up. But about a minute into the run it would be fine.

After very little thought, I finally remembered why I have so many problems with this leg. And it has to do with that ankle.

Back when I was working (full time) and going to school (full time), I was mean ol' fat bastard. Well not mean, just horrendously fat. Like 5' 6" and nearly 300lbs fat. I'm still not a pretty picture, but 225 (at last check a couple days ago) is much better than 300.

It had been a LONG week at work and at school. A lot of projects and reports due (AAS in computer tech). School was 5 days a week from 6pm to 10:30pm. I carried two backpacks full of books and supplies EVERYWHERE.

I was relieved that I completed everything on time and was very satisfied that I'd get excellent scores and grades. Not being cocky, just very thorough (and I did, btw). I skipped pizza and beer with my friends that night because I had to work the next morning (on a Saturday, ugh).

I got home and headed to the garage to throw my backpacks on my desk . . . and misjudged a step down. I rolled my ankle and heard a snap. Then I felt it. I wanted to scream like a little girl and I don't know why I didn't. I still don't remember how I ended up on the sofa a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped around my ankle.

I probably should have gone to the doctor . . . but I didn't. My ankle was the size of a football at first, but the swelling had gone down to about softball size the next morning.

Continuing this story on my computer now because it's a bit tedious typing on this crappy screen for this long!

Just so you know, that isn't really the beginning of the crappy day that I had.  It started earlier in the day right after I got out of work. My friend and I worked at the same place (he was my boss at the time) and we commuted together. We took turns driving. It was his turn that day. He's one of those drivers that sits really close to the wheel and tailgates like a mofo! I think he does it more when I'm in the car with him to keep me a nervous wreck.

Anyway, so it's the end of the day and we are sitting at the stop waiting to make a left-hand-turn at a notoriously dangerous intersection. There hasn't been a month that goes by that someone ends up in the ditch on either side of the road on hit by another car.

I guess we were selected to get T-boned that day.

We had left early that day that we got out at the same time school lets out so there were a lot of cars going by on the main road. It's a 55 mph curvy mountainous road. The road we were on had the elementary school, so people were turning onto it. When it was his turn to wait to make that left, there was a line of cars about 7 deep on the near side of the main road in front of us all slowing down to turn onto the road we were on. All the cars appeared to be making that turn. They were all signalling.

But I saw a work truck speeding up from behind those other cars and when my friend asked if he should turn, I told him no. He hit the gas.

The truck hit us.

We were soooooo lucky! And I'm not being sarcastic about this. It could have been so much worse.

When the truck hit us, nailed the back end of the drivers side hard enough to tattoo the license plate number on the body. We spun around a couple of time and ended up in the ditch right across from where we were at just a few seconds ago. The car was ass down, nose up at about a 60 degree angle. For some reason, I pictured us about to take off into space when we ended up there.

I asked my bud if he was ok. He said he was fine, then the jerk asked where his glasses were at. I told him no, I'm fine too! I wasn't calm, but I wasn't too upset. From the moment we stopped in the ditch, I knew we were more than fine. The car was totaled, but we were fine. I got out to make sure of my self assessment and make sure he was ok. He seemed a bit dazed. I had him sit down on the hood of the car while I checked on the driver of the truck. He was running towards us wanting to make sure WE were fine. He was just as scared shitless as my friend. When he saw that we were ok, he literally just dropped to his knees in relief . . . in the middle of the road. I helped him back up and had him sit next to my friend.

His truck . . . perfectly fine. Just a bit of paint from my friends car. No other sign that it had been in an accident. My friends car . . . all three back windows gone, driver side window gone, windshield spiderwebbed, body had a 15 degree angle to it now from the rear driver-side door (4 door Honda). Oh, and it was in the ditch.

Other drivers had pulled off the road and asking if we were ok and were calling 911. I found my buds glasses in the middle of the road. Not a scratch on 'em.

Something was in the cards for that day.

So there I am, on the sofa with my ankle FUBAR'ed. After the accident earlier I was supposed to pick him up the next day because he didn't have a car to go to work yet. But here was the problem: At the time I drove a 1981 Toyota Longbed pickup . . . STICK! I needed both feet to drive!

Crap. I just realized that's not the reason why I'm having trouble with my right leg now. I guess it's just a  regular injury. Bummer. Oh well, might as well finish the damn story.

My LEFT ankle was my clutch foot. How the fuck was I going to drive to work! I called him and told him what happened. Being the idiot that I am, he convinced me to pick him up anyway.

I somehow hobbled out to my truck and miraculously figured out how to press in the clutch without TOO much pain. When I got to his house, I told him to drive. The fucker tells me he doesn't know how to drive my truck. He once had manual 4 speed Hyundai. I forgot about that like an idiot until MUCH LATER!

We somehow get to work without killing us and I told him I was just going to sit in the lab with my ankle elevated and that he can fuck off if he wanted me to work. I was too pissed and in pain to actually be able to work anyway. He left me alone until noon when we finally left. I didn't speak to him that whole week.

I didn't break anything and I think the only thing the visit to the doctor would have done was put me in a cast to minimize movement. I put a wrap around it and was on crutches for about a week I think.

I'm sorry for the long post, but I'm a bit worried. That happened in a February. My two personal car accidents (none my fault) were in February. My street hockey related broken wrist . . . February. My slashed on the are by some crazy random dude when I was 12 . . . February.

February and I don't get along. 28 days is too long for February. I'm not too superstitious except for this. I have several years between major incidences, but I'm still wary. Every friggin' year I watch for extra crazy stuff.

GD

p.s.
too crazy to check. run smiley :)