My second day in California I kind of, sort of broke my foot while running a half marathon in San Diego. There I was, mile 9 or something like that. And there she was. Some old lady power walking. Like the typical old lady powering walking type: visor, utility belt of those tiny water bottles, giant sunglasses, and a look on her face that's meant to resemble determination but really she just looked scary. Well in order to not run over this lady I stepped around her like any good person would and did something funky to my foot. But I guess that's why we're blessed with pairs of things in this world just in case the other one is out of order. The rest of the week touring felt like I had a knife in my foot but I still found some really cool places nonetheless. But the week of the broken foot taught me that sight seeing is more important than pain.
That makes absolutely no sense and there really isn't a correlation but it was English so that makes it understandable enough. The half broken foot is about 1/4 broken now, in case you wanted to know. You probably care as much as I do, which is not that much to be honest. Because when something hurts I do the exact opposite of what any normal person would do, I ignore it. Knock on wood, but there is going to be a day where I accidentally chop my own finger off by being too excited while cooking (this will never happen) and while every one else is freaking out about the blood pooling on the counter I'll be the one (growing paler by the minute) saying, "No really, ya'll, I'm okay. Let's finish what we started." And my friends will be the ones reminding me it's not a reenactment of Carton de Wiart's efforts in the Boer War and that 10 fingers are more important that 9 and Ginger Glazed Mahi Mahi.
In other words. Limping through the city of Los Angeles for a week was more enticing to me than sitting around and bitching about a foot cramp.
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