bum knees.

My weekend ended up being pretty disastrous. Almost to the point of being comical. Almost. As I had mentioned yesterday, my ski plans got botched thanks to a little screw in the road. So I came home and caught up on a little sleep (while still wearing my ski pants . . . ), then headed out to get the tire repaired. An hour later I came back home with the same screw in the same tire because the places were too busy. My roommate is taking the car in today to get the tire fixed. Bless him.

Well, next I chatted my fiance's face off for a bit, then decided to get out of the house and go for a run. I had every intention of making it a 10-miler and felt amazing when I started out. You know that feeling when your gait is perfect, your lungs feel like you're breathing air sent from Heaven, and you think your legs can last a millenium? That was me yesterday. Soooo off I went, into the country and feeling great. Around mile five, I got deep into a thought about Stuffed vs. Double Stuffed Oreos (not kidding) and . . . next thing I know, I'd tripped on a rock and was skidding across a dirt/gravel track on my hands and knees. For the record, this is about the fourth time I've done this and was by far the worst. I got up and tried to catch my breath among the ensuing sobs. When I fall, I don't allow myself any pity so sitting on the ground and crying is definitely not an option. Looking down, my left knee was completely open (gross) and my right was completely skinned, not to mention my right palm having a significant amount of damage. My left hand was saved thanks to the water bottle I was holding. Super. 

I walked a mile home, shivering from the setting sun and holding back tears as best I could. The thing that bothered me most out of all this was that no one, not one single person, stopped to ask if I was OK. I mean, I wasn't exactly approachable: twenty-something woman wearing neon clothes, blood running down my legs and sweaty, mascara-y tears running down my cheeks, lip pouting almost to the ground . . . but COME ON PEOPLE! It's the holidays! Season of perpetual hope? (Home Alone, anyone?) Anyway, here's what my poor knees look like today. I mostly wanted to include this picture because of my super sexy stockings. Maybe I need a new hobby. I'm sure knitting or painting are nice.

Needless to say, I didn't get much done last night, save a few hours of sleep in the couch (literally, in the couch because that thing just gobbles you up). When my roommate and his brother got home he said, "Wow, you look pale." Nothing like boosting the old self-esteem! Oh well, that's life and as long as I live to see another day, I'm one happy camper.

"We can't all be heroes because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by." - Will Rogers