my buddy once told me that the only way to fix a computer is to unplug it, cradle it in your arms, hold it out a window, release it for a half second and then catch it before it falls. you know, scare the living shit out of it and watch how nicely it'll behave.
i took that to heart. i think it makes a whole lotta sense.
anyway, my shins have been killing me more on than off for the past three months. i'll have good runs for a week until, one day, i feel like my shin muscles are pulling out a half-mile ahead from my bones. it's a horrible physical feeling and an even worse emotional one, knowing that i woke up early for naught and that i'm about to endure a different kind of walk of shame back home, one that doesn't come with a good story.
despite the amount of ice and rest i've applied to my lower half during my ordeal, i finally took stock in all my options and realized i'm out of them. that is, until i remembered my buddy's advice.
so i joined a gym.
it wasn't a subtle gesture. in fact, when i went in, i glared at the stairmaster. "look at that machine. you see it? yeah? well, it's got your name on it, shins. this is what you've brought me to. if you're gonna take away running from me, well, you're gonna walk me to this." i knew it heard me. i made sure of it.
so when inanimate objects begin to wreck your life, is threatening them your only recourse?
you bet your ass. and if you don't believe me, i've got 18 miles behind me to prove it to you.
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