just call me grace

As this is part running blog, I'm going to briefly mention my running (or lack there of) today.

I was doing well, planning to run the Portland Sea Dogs Mother's Day 5k, training, building up endurance. All was right in the world. Then, last Wednesday, I took a tumble. I wasn't running, I wasn't climbing a mountain, or stepping in front of a train to save a small child. I was walking towards my car, out of my back door. There is only 1 step, and I managed to get my (sensible) low heeled shoe caught on an upturned brick. I screamed like it was my job, K drove me to the hospital, and there was wheel chair, and an xray, and it was just a bad sprain. Sprain. I think there should be another word for it, something that inspires more sympathy, and lets people know that something really is wrong. Because when you break a bone, they're like "oh my, you broke your ankle, put it up, let me wait on you", and when you fracture it, they're like "wow, a fracture, i heard that takes longer to heal than a break". When you sprain your ankle the most common response is "oh, i do that all time" or "wow, that sucks, those take a long time to heal, hey, while your up, can you get me a glass of water".

so I can't run the 5K. I'm still shooting for the Portland 1/2 marathon, and toying with the Beach to Beacon. but for now, i'm limping along.