Last night as I was scrambling to pack up for this weekend’s trip, I clocked my foot on a door frame. I would say it demonstrated what happens when an immovable object encounters an unstoppable force… But neither of those conditions were absolutely true. The one true takeaway is that I really smacked my foot hard.
To my credit, I didn’t swear albeit that may have been due ore to my inability to form any other sound than, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!” I don’t think it’s broken… And even if it were, I’m pretty sure there’s not much to be done for a broken toe per se. I iced it a bit last night and it’s still quite tender today; indeed, this little piggy is black and blue and bruised all over.
I’m not sure what that means for this weekend’s marathons. I’ve promised my mom and myself that if it really hurts to run on it I’ll drop out of the races. There’s too many great things on the horizon to chance ruining future events because of short term decision making.
Having said that, I suspect I’ll tough out Saturday for sure in Fargo if only to see how it feels and then decide about Green Bay after I drive the 8 hours from North Dakota to Lambeau Field. But I promise, here in the not-so-permanent and yet always searchable internet ether, that if it becomes an issue in ND, I will go no farther.
Meanwhile, because I’m headed to the upper midwest, I’m hitting one of my favorite pizza buffet chains for dinner tonight. I even dug up my frequent diner’s club card for them despite the fact I only go when I’m breezing through this part of the country. Contrary to what it sometimes seems like, that isn’t as often as you’d think. Nonetheless, Pizza Ranch here I come! Your thin crust Tuscan Roma pizza has my name on it!
I’ve made it to Fargo and picked up my bib from the FargoDome.
I also took a quick detour to the Fargo Moorhead Visitors Bureau. They’ve embraced the Coen Brothers’ connection by offering photos with the actual wood chipper prop from the namesake 1996 noir flick. In fact, they even have prop hats to don to complete the look. I appreciated this more than New Jersey’s efforts to make native son Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” the state song… “It’s a death trap, a sucide rap…” That could be the state motto I guess.
In any case, my toe has been getting better by the hour. It’s not perfect by any stretch and it’s still black and blue and tender… But it’s better. Who knows if after 26.2 miles tomorrow how it will feel but that’s for another day.
The biggest issue now is that I forgot the only room left to book at this hotel was a smoking room. God, who still smokes in this day and age? Apparently punk kids on the stoop outside this hotel and apparently my room is where many a smoker has stayed. I’ve unpacked just what I need for tonight and tomorrow and put everything else back in my car to try and minimize the stench on my belongings. And I can smell it even through my stuffy nose and head! Yeesh.
So for now, a bit of cold medication, a sleep, and an early rise so that tomorrow I might go… beyond FargoDome.