You know that scene in Save the Last Dance where she's sitting on the edge of the bathtub and takes off her toe shoe, revealing a bloody mess of her toe? I kind of feel like that. No, my toes aren't bloody from running (yet), but try convincing my brain not to feel that kind of pain. It feels like with each long run, I give a layer of my toe skin as payment to the running gods.
Today's run was miserable. First of all, I was a big wuss and I didn't run outside, despite the gorgeous sun beating in my bedroom window. Second of all, I ate two bowls of Cheerios for breakfast, only about 90 minutes before leaving for the gym. I didn't make my 8 miles (training plan dictated), but didn't feel one ounce of disappointment in hopping off the treadmill and coming home.
It wouldn't be training season without me complaining about my toenails. The first started to turn black just two weeks into training (on the left foot), and the second followed suit about two weeks later. As a result, they haven't fallen off, they're hangin' on for dear life. I thought I'd document the "progress" immediately post-run for maximum effect.
p.s. PLEASE still pray for Mitch. His condition isn't getting any better, and his family has made the decision to move him to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. It breaks my heart!