Beware: Stupidity Ahead

It's been awhile since I've blogged. Finishing another grueling round of marathon training then topping it off with a successful race apparently puts me in automatic vacation mode. Not the lounging-on-a-sandy-white-beach-listening-to-the-waves-and-sipping-piña-coladas kind of vacation mode. More like the shutting-off-the-alarm-clock-instead-of-getting-up-to-run-in-the-cold-dark-because-I'm-not-training-and-don't-have-to-run-anyway kind of vacation mode. It's no fruity drink with a miniature umbrella, but it's a pretty good place to be nonetheless.

Truth be told, I've never been much for recovery. Three days after my marathon, when I was finally able to move forward more than three steps at a time, I naturally felt like I was due for a run. That weekend, I ran eight miles of rolling hills. The next weekend, I ran 12 miles of flat country roads. And the next weekend, I was nursing an injury.

Well, surprise, surprise.

Sustaining a post-marathon injury is as inevitable for me as Kanye West making a fool of himself in public. It's just bound to happen.

Of course, I'm no stranger to injury. In my relatively short running career, I've injured everything there is to injure. More than once. I've been there, done that. And because I've been there, done that, I know exactly how to treat an injury. Forget resting and taking time off in order to heal, blah blah blah. Nooo... the way to treat an injury is with ice. Lots and lots of ice. There's just no such thing as too much ice.

Except... apparently, there is.

I'm the kind of person who scoffs at printed warnings because they obviously only pertain to stupid people. Don't put ice pack directly on skin? Pfftt... that's for stupid people. Don't leave ice pack on skin for more than 15-20 minutes at a time? Whatever. Only a moron would need to be told that.

Anyway, I'm done blogging now. Show's over. You folks go back to what you were doing.

The frostbite on my thigh needs another antibiotic treatment.