|Spot the runner?|
Take note future bloggers of the interwebs, this is not how to write a blog post.
Because all of those well-laid plans (and drafts) went out the window this evening when my legs started screaming at me. They've really been furiously angry with me since we went on vacation. Really starting when Siri told me that we were going to accompany her on a few training runs. Since those runs started edging their way uphill. And around the track a few times. But they really started protesting once we hit the trails by the gorges. You know, those hikes that seem engineered for mountain goats and not real live people? And when we got to the Oneonta Falls and had to clamber over a naturally occurring jungle gym made of fallen tree trunks suspended over a creek bed, they up and quit. And I fell.
It didn't help that Siri then spent the next five minutes laughing at me instead of helping me up. And that there were tons of other people around, including small children. So now my legs look like they've shaken hands, high-fived, and bumped fists with a baseball bat. The bruises are literally black and purple; the scratches are livid red (and hopefully not infected). It's oh-so-attractive in shorts. To add insult to injury, tonight I scraped the skin off of them from an extra long riding lesson. It's disgusting and my legs *excuse my language* now hurt like a bitch.
So the moral of the story is don't abuse your legs. Because they have to take you places and stuff. Yep, I'm on my way to writing some great American literature.