Ok, the subject was going to be “A walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises”, but Incognita decided to play along with my earlier game, which to be fair, I did start, so there you go.
Now my shins hum like street lights.
See, I like to think that I have a high pain threshold. If I’m at the dentist, for example, I’ll sit there and take whatever he or she throws at me. I’m not quite at the point where I can have a tooth pulled without getting my mouth frozen (my Dad actually did that once), but still, high tolerance. The thing is, I have to be in the chair, metaphorically speaking. Maybe it’s a growing level of common sense, but I have a hard time bringing additional pain onto myself. I’ll take it, but I won’t ask for more. Bringing the metaphor to reality, I guess that’s why I rarely go to the dentist.
The point, if any, has to do with my legs. As I may have mentioned earlier, my (physio) therapist needs me to be in pain for her to be able to diagnose the problem. The only way I know to aggravate my shins is to run for several sessions over the course of a few days. So I did. My (physio) therapist should be very happy with me. If the Buddhists are right, and life is, indeed, suffering, I’m headed to Nirvana. Medical orders, can’t be helped.
It’s hard enough to look big and tough when running, so I can imagine what people thought of me when I was making strange little whimper sounds with every other breath. Great fun. My motivational tricks are amusing too. I’m limping along at 6:20 in the morning, and I’m trying to get myself to do things my body doesn’t want to do, has made very clear that it doesn’t want to do, and all to save a few bucks. Hey, at $45 a pop, I want this thing diagnosed soon so we can move on to getting better. You know, after we repair the damage from the testing process.
I’m on my way over now. If this doesn’t work, I’m just getting one of those scooter things.
Update: Everything went as planned. All that remains is to hide my legs under ice in always frozen lakes.