I got back to my desk after getting an electrode treatment at my podiatrist's this afternoon on the verge of tears. He told me I should take another week off from running. I just can't cope with that. No. No. No. I'm getting fat again. I'm bored as hell. I'm getting depressed. I'm daydreaming about smoking. And I have a 4 Miler this weekend.
Yes, it was dumb to run on my foot when it was hurting. It will potentially be dumber to run on it tonight against my doctor's recommendation. I just can't help it. I have to try.
Baby steps.
The thought of missing my race is killing me. If I don't race, I'm supposed to go to my sister's husband's aunt's house for a party. As much as I appreciate being invited to go to my sister's husband's aunt's house for a party, it makes me feel like a loser being there. Like I couldn't find anyone more closely connected to me to spend new year's eve with than my sister's husband's aunt?
No. No. No. I will not tag along on someone else's plans. I will run. I must run. I may limp. I will finish.
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