I am really hoping that it’s true that bad things happen in threes. Because the last month has been a trifecta of obstacles that is impeding my 50-miler training, my sleep quality, and my ability to wear the couple new pairs of long, sexy socks I bought.
First I got stung by a wasp and had what the internet calls a “severe local reaction.” This means I am not allergic but my body builds a fortress around the sting and swells my leg to the size of Babar’s. Second, while backpacking with Katie in the Great Smokies National Park (pre-government-shutdown), we got caught in a crazy downpour on our hike out, inspiring me to do the 7-miles in my underwear (I mean seriously, who wouldn’t?). Well, this somehow triggered joy in the chigger population and I ended up with more than a hundred bites on my legs – the itching keeping me up at night for a week thereafter. Finally, this week I flipped over my handlebars on my commuter bike while zipping to the UNC library. I didn’t see the wicked steep speed bump and lost total control. Like an idiot I wasn’t wearing my helmet and did, in fact, bang my head on the ground. Fortunately my arm absorbed most of my melon’s impact as my forearm took brunt of the wipeout. I’m guessing that If I had medical insurance I’d have stitches in my shin. Everything seems to be healing well so far, but the hematoma that burst in my groin area after sustaining some handlebar trauma is discoloring things that should never be these shades of bruise. Though it looks mildly disconcerting, all is well and good and will be less scary in a few days I expect.
So three’s a charm, I hope.