Sarah Gone Wild

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this last night while drinking a few bottles of wine. I feel the need to go back and edit, but I won’t. Just consider yourself warned.

I have no idea what I intend to write. Other than this: my feet smell REALLY bad. I just took off my shoes and HOLY BALLS! I think I need to Febreeze those bad boys. Whew!

I stopped at the liquor store down the street from my house on my way home from work. It’s been an incredibly stressful few weeks, with impossible deadlines that my amazing coworkers and I still manage to hit somehow, but geez. It’s taking a toll on my sanity. So I stopped for a bottle of wine or two, and walked out with three. Trust me, I deserve every one of them.

The guy who works there is a middle-aged guy with a Middle-Eastern accent and he ALWAYS compliments me. Today (I’m decked out in my brand new She-Ra t-shirt and old She-Ra trucker hat that eats my head), he told me my ID picture was cute (see previous parenthetical statement for why he checked my ID) and that my hat is too big. Then he said I have far too cute of a face to be wearing a hat that covers it.

First of all, I have three bottles of wine. That means a couple of things. 1) I will be self-soothing soon. 2) I probably really needed to hear that. But most importantly, 3) you’ve already made the sale. No need to kiss my oversized ass.

Then I got in my car and realized that his sales tactic works, because Walgreens has started selling liquor again and I still stopped at his shop instead of the Walgreens next door. And probably will again and again. So you win, Liquor Store Guy. Keep lying and making me feel better about myself and you’ll continue to earn my boozey biz. As Chucky Sheen would say, “WINNING!”

Want to know more about my stinky foot? Lucky you, I’m in a mood to bitch about it.

Last time I wrote about my running, I was worried about my knee. Turns out I had bigger issues. My occasional foot pain was growing less and less “occasional” and leaving me gimptastic for days after a run. And just walking around was getting a touch uncomfortable at times.

It wasn’t until a few weeks after the half marathon that I was in enough pain to do something about it, and I went to a foot doctor recommended by a fellow runner (the awesome breast-cancer’s-ass-kicking, dissertation-writing, marathon-running, smart-as-shit cousin-in-law Dianna). After weeks of taping and stretching, with fracture-free xrays, the pain was still intense. I got up to 14 miles in training for the full marathon (New Orleans Rock ‘n Roll) with the equally amazing, awesome, ass-kicking Teresa, but realized I was not only holding her back but potentially causing real harm to my foot. So I stopped running.

I was also put in a stylish boot:

Don't be jealous!

I wore that damn thing for about 8 weeks, making training non-existent. I recently weaned out of the boot into custom-made orthotic inserts, so now I have to wear tennis shoes every single effing day. And you know what? MY FOOT STILL HURTS.

Yes, I’m bad at remembering to do my stretches. But you would think there HAS to be a way to cure a “wicked case of plantar fasciitis” (direct quote from the foot doc when he far-too-enthusiastically reviewed my MRI scans) and get me back to a point where I can at LEAST walk around my office without limping. But no. The only additional thing I can do, as I learned today, is go in for regular shots to relieve the effing pain while the stretching and resting do their jobs to heal the mad inflammation, bone contusion and fluid build up. Awesome.

Add that to the residual neck and head pain from the accident and it seems like triathlon season is just not going to happen for me this year.

Add THAT to the fact that my OBGYN nurse practitioner told me I may need surgery again for my endometriosis because the insurance company refuses to let a 29 year old woman decide for herself that she never wants babies and therefore doesn’t need all the lady bits that are causing excruciating pain and you have one depressed me.

Add all of that to my ridiculous workload and additional personal issues and you get a girl who REALLY deserves three bottles of wine.

So that’s where I am tonight. What’s new with you?

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