Monday Update: Getting better, by all accounts. My hair around the staples is really badly, horribly greasy. I can shower and wash it, but no shampoo I’ve ever seen is a match for the amount of Neosporin I am putting on my head the past few days.

I wound up taking Saturday off from training, but I had a nice, mellow sunday run near the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. Two hours and twenty minutes, and I got to run with a guy who went to MIT and knows one of my track teammates from high school. He was training for the Napa Valley marathon. Good luck, Tyler!

Well, I was in a show last night, and working at the theater, but I found time to impose upon the generosity of my friends the Hills, expecially Karen who is a doctor.

[after roughly .3 seconds]
“Oh yeah, you need stitches.”

“But … I have a show.”

“Oh, fine, come over after, I’ll fix you up”

Seriously. I cannot stress her generosity strongly enough here – at 10:45 pm, having finished the show, I went back to their house. She put some numbing gel on my head, and with the reassuring voice of someone who must deal with morons like me all the time, put six staples in my head.

It hurt like hell, but now that I’ve had a chance to see them, it was totally worth it. Seriously, doesn’t it look awesome?

-Frankenstein.

A lot of what? If you’re talking about babies, of course, it’s vomit. If you’ve never had the pleasure of having a baby throw up on you, just wait, your time will come. It’s actually not that bad, but they do hold a lot of it.

On the other hand, if you’re talking about me, it’s blood. Seriously, who knew?
I was out running today, luckily not too far from home, when I smacked my head into a tree branch. It hurt like a live duck in an aquarium, and I put my hand on my head because, you know, that helps. But my head was warm and wet, and when I looked at my now-also-warm and wet hand, it was covered with blood. Yuck. I didn’t even have much time to think about it, because pretty soon I was dripping quite a lot of blood onto the sidewalk.
With no better option, I put my hat back on and clamped my hand over it. So intead of bleeding all over the place, all the blood was either absorbed by my hat or got busy getting my hair really gross. And I walked home, slowly.

Now I’m pissed that I’m missing my workout for today, and surprised, you know, that I hold so much of it.

[Note: those cartoons are really funny, and you should read them]