Just call me Grace...

I've been really tired in the evenings lately.  Something about my days over the last month or two have completely exhausted me to the point that I can barely get through what I need to do to keep my house running with some semblance of order, let alone squeeze in anything extra before I collapse in bed.  And that anything extra includes the running program that I started earlier this year.  And while I never thought I'd be the type of person to say this, I've actually missed it.

So, to make up for my general lack of motivation in the evening, I've started getting up early in the morning to squeeze in a run before work.  I even downloaded a kick butt Nike+GPS app for my iPhone that tracks my time, pace, distance, and route, just because I'm enough of a control freak that something like this makes the whole process that much more fun.  And things were going well...

...until yesterday morning, that is.  Yesterday morning, this happened...

Yes, this is a terrible picture, but that would be what is left of the skin on my leg, after I wiped out on Tuesday.  Just be happy that I spared you from what is under the bandage, because it is not pretty

See, my HOA is still running the sprinklers in October, because that's what they do.  They also set the sprinklers up on the small strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street, meaning that they are watering the sidewalks when I'm off and running.  So, yesterday morning, I headed into the street to avoid getting watered myself, at the same time that somebody on their way out of the neighborhood was driving towards me.  And since running towards traffic isn't high on my list of smart moves to make, I moved closer to the curb to avoid the car.  Unfortunately, the spot I moved towards happened to be the spot where the storm drain is built into the curb, and given the uneven/sloping pavement in that spot, I lost my balance and hit the ground.  The best part was that I did all of this in the spotlight created by the oncoming car's headlights, so the driver had a perfect view of the crazy face and inelegant sprawling that occurred when I went down.

Awesome.

He was nice enough to stop and make sure I was ok, and really, I felt fine.  At the time, that is.  Apparently, the 45 degree temps were enough to keep the pain at bay, while I finished my run, but once I got back home, all hell broke loose...and I've been whining about it ever since.  Because it really, really hurts.

A non-stick wound pad, gauze square, and gauze roll, plus some first-aid tape, regular band-aids, and anti-bacterial cream later, and I don't think it will ever stop hurting.  Because I am a big baby when it comes to pain.

(Yes, I am surprised I survived childbirth, too.  Yay for drugs.)

Can I take the rest of the week off to recover, now?