On July 5th, the Rippons hosted a "Recovery Party". Here in America's Hometown, Fourth of July starts on the 3rd and rages until the weekend is over. This year, with the 5th falling on a Saturday and a newly laid walkway in front, we hosted the day after party.
In the process of being a good hostess, and loving wife, I stubbed my little toe on said walkway, while walking out another round of fresh brews to the boys playing whiffle ball like it was the All-Star game. It was enough to make me feel sick to my stomach, and looking back I know I heard a pop.
It didn't change colors, or swell up, but just hurt. I didn't say anything because negative energy breeds negative energy, and I felt like this was embarking on a downward spiral. I think I was also hoping that if I ignored it, it would just go away. I took a few days off. I spent a day at the gym. I went to San Fran with all intentions of running a great "on the road in an amazing place" kind of run.
I laced up the kix in the rolling town, and walked Dale to work. I felt my baby toe with every step. I didn't even try to stride.
I put my dreams of the Bay run to sleep, and settled on a tour of the city on Saturday in my sandals that don't hurt my toe.
San Francisco is a beautiful city built on two sides of the hills overlooking the Bay. It has plenty to do and see, and I can honestly say I wish we had more time.
Instead of running, I had a fantastic day touring Fisherman's Wharf, Fort Mason, viewing the Golden Gate, walking the piers, eating chocolate, and clam chowdah (though nothing like the chowdah you get heah!) out of big sourdough bread bowls. I enjoyed the sunshine, the cool ocean breeze and the 70 degree weather, holding hands with The Man of Few Words as we navigated the crowds and thoroughly exhausted ourselves.
I've stayed optimistic, all things considered. Allowing myself time to heal, and staying positive is always a challenge. But, I'm fairing well, and hoping that all the extra calcium in my diet will finally pay off!
