Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes

After 17 years of consistent running, 6 of which were competitive, I would wager that there are very few running "experiences" that I have not had the pleasure of having.  Vomit, check.  Other intestinal feats of strength, check.  Using the woods as a bathroom, check.  Falling and the sequel to falling (bleeding), check.  Blisters, check, check, check, and...check.  But after my half marathon two weekends ago, I am going to experience something I never have before.

I am going to lose a toenail.

That's right, I said it.  And if it grosses you out that I typed that, then you should stop reading.

How is it, you might ask yourself, that I have managed to go this long without losing a toenail?  My dad's feet barely have any as a norm, and Patrick has lost his fair share over the years.  I'd like to chalk it up to my superior form, you know, my feet are perfectly aligned and I strike on them evenly blah blah blah.  I'd even accept that my beloved Asics are impenetrable to the type of trauma necessary to injure a toe badly enough to cause this.  And although my feet are misshapen, as my pinkie toe (when straightened) is the same length (or longer) as my fourth toe, that seems like it would encourage injury, not prevent it.

Nope, it's as simple as this.  In 17 years of running, I have never once stubbed my toe on the couch less than an hour after getting home from a race.  What's that?  You don't think that counts as a legitimate running injury?  Excuse me???  It legitimately hurt, and I'm pretty sure that my clumsiness could only be attributed to being tired after running (yes, I'm SURE that's it...). Therefore, it is a running injury and I will count it as such.

Now that we've established the legitimacy of this injury, let's get on with the pictures.

This is what my toe looked like 2 days after the race.  At the time, I thought it looked pretty bad and decided against wearing sandals out of the house that day.  In retrospect, I should have embraced the sandals because who knows when I will get a chance to bare my feet again.

This is about 5 days post-race.  I was taking off my work shoes this day and said to Patrick, "I think my toenail fell off."  He barely glanced at my foot and said, "no it didn't."  "How can you tell?" I asked.  His response: "When it falls off, it won't be black anymore."  How much I have to learn...

Current picture, 9 days post-race.  I am getting impatient.  I have considered buying black nail polish and painting all of my toenails so this one doesn't look like the pinkie step-child of the group.  Just.fall.off.already.





So I will continue to wait (and wait and wait...) until I am one less toenail.  And for those of you wondering, my next race will be a 5k that will be winner-take-all for either me or Patrick.  So hopefully after that little competition, I won't be one less toenail AND one less husband...