Speedbumps on the road to health

I knew it.  Goddammit, I knew it all along.  I never should have told you fine people about my attempts at losing weight and feeling better.  It could only end in tragedy (or in the best possible case… annoyance).

So, yeah.  I’m annoyed.  Last Monday, October 15th, I told you all about how I’d been running every morning.  I also told you how the running had led me to feel better than I had in years.

The next morning, a dog chased me. 

It wasn’t a very big dog, maybe in the 20-30 pound range, and I even kept my pace for a little while, figuring the little guy just wanted to play.  Then I felt the hideous hell-bastard clamp down on my heel.  Now, it had only bitten my shoe, not my skin, but my fight or flight instinct kicked in.  I had to choose between outracing the dog or turning around and defending myself with the strongest kick I could muster.

I decided to run.  Living with Shawna for over six years has overthrown my highly intelligent hatred of this species that will one day depose mankind, or at the very least has made me not want to be caught by her as I kick a dog halfway to Saturn.  For those of you who think I’m taking this a little too seriously, please see above where the fucking thing bit me!

So I took off at a sprint, and the little bastard kept pace with me far too long.  I ended up winded, sore, and had managed to twist the living shit out of my ankle.  I made it back to the house, where Shawna was just getting ready to take our dogs out for their morning walk.

“Go another route.  There’s a loose dog out there.”

“Oh,” Shawna says.  “Well, can you distract it?”

And that’s how I ended up sprinting from the dog again.

I managed to run my regular route the rest of the week, though by Friday I could feel my ankle collecting fluid whenever I wasn’t moving.  I applied ice over the weekend, and come Monday I was ready to run again.

This is when the temperature dropped twenty degrees. 

To say I was unprepared for the difference twenty degrees and some strong wind makes is a bit of an understatement.  I made it about a quarter of my normal route before I felt something pop in my face.  You read that correctly.  I felt something pop in my face.  By the time I’d run another block, it felt like somebody had poured a gallon of fluid into my sinuses.  I stopped and evacuated about a cup of snot into somebody’s front yard.  This feeling has continued since Monday.  Yesterday, my eye started to feel like it had been punched.  When I woke up this morning, said eye was swollen halfway shut, and I had to evacuate more snot.  Ice got the swelling down quite a bit, but I’m sitting here waiting for the rest of my face to explode or something.

And I’m pricing stationary bikes.