"You hurt your what?"

Last Friday, the day of Katherine's nursing home move, I hurt my foot. Not just, "Wah, my foot hurts." But, "Holy Hallelujah, my foot HURTS!" I felt a pop in my right heel during my training session that morning. I am just stubborn enough to not say anything about it. No one wants to be the fat, whiny girl at the gym. Least of all me. So, I limp along trying to not look limpy. Pain pretty much subsides UNTIL...I am at Katherine's apartment for cleanup and packup. Somehow during the ride to her place, I don't really notice anything odd until I get out of my truck. Upon weight bearing, pain shoots up my leg through my heel. Oh Dear Jesus! (prayer, not swear) Wishing I could drag myself to the elevator instead of walk, I press on. Trying to find the least painful method of movement AND trying to look like I don't have a SEVERE handicap. The people in the sitting area offered me their canes. Nice.

LONG story short, I pack, check Katherine out of Crestview and go to pick up Evan from school. Carol, the M-I-L, is a big girl and can handle the rest of the packing at the apartment. I call Bobby when Evan and I get home. THAT was when the tears came. Flooding my eyes, streaming down my face. Tears of pain. Tears of ANGER! What is my problem? How can I be THAT clumsy? This is the longest stretch of exercise sans accidents that I've ever had. WTH happened? Clarifying that I had felt a pop, Bobby said, "Sounds like you gave yourself a fasciiotomy." Ex-squeeze me? I baking powder? (Waynes' World reference, 5 points if you caught it). "Instead of having a doctor sever your plantar fascia, you did it yourself." Yippee. And crippled myself in the process. Nice. On the bright side, I got out of loading Katherine's stuff onto Carol's truck. Down side: hopping my "svelte" self to the bathroom, kitchen, etc. Evan kept climbing on me to kiss my head and say "Poor Mommy." Awwwwww. Sweet Boy!

Thank God for Aleve, ice packs and Ace bandages. By Monday morning I was good as new. Excellent news since I was going back to the gym no matter what. At least I could walk in on foot like a normal person. Not crawl in on hands and knees, trying to act normal. Chrisinator was kind to us, too. No high impact stuff. Just serious squatting and leg weights. Not to worry, I still perspired enough to soak my clothes and soak my hair. Thanks, Chrisinator!