To Hell in a Handbasket

One mile walk with the pup.

If you've been following me on social media, then you already know how the week has been. For those of you under a rock (like my brothers), here's the gist of it.

My week went to hell.

After Monday's early-morning cardio sesh, my week slowly went downhill. I went home early that day with a migraine (probably dehydrated). While I was home, and walking around barefoot in the dark, I stepped on a toothpick. Leaving me with a deep puncture wound in...you guessed it...my right foot.

I yelled and screamed and ripped it out. Then I taped a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide over it. Tuesday, I came into work and it was swollen and painful to walk. After doing a quick and alarming Google search, I found out that things like that are nothing to mess with.

So...Scott took me to emergency care. They x-rayed (Yes, Gram, I know that's not a verb, just go with it.), gave me a tetanus (which hurts like the Dickens, btw), soaked it, wrote me a prescription for antibiotics, and then - this is the best part - taped a band aid over it.

Gunner loves when Mommy goes
to work, because he gets a peanut
butter Kong.

I wonder how much that band aid is going to cost.

I've been taking my antibiotics and soaking it at night like the doctor told me to, and my toe is starting to feel better. I walked the dog for a mile this morning with no pain from the wound (still the normal foot pain).

I'm going to aim for a 3-mile walk with the pup tonight, just to make sure I can still move my body three miles.

Because...we have a race this weekend. Remember? Oh yeah, that race. The one that was supposed to get me back into running shape. Yeah, that one. Due to foot trauma (that's a real thing), I managed to get myself placed in the 5K event, while Scott will still be running the 10K.