...Playing While Hurt

At a time when I couldn’t have possibly been any more concerned or insecure about my appearance, I started off my junior year of high school with a huge, nasty, ugly, bulbous, bloody-looking gash on my forehead. Of course, school pictures were scheduled early that year, so this most hideous version of me remains forever memorialized for the Classes of `90-‘93 (or at least those who’ve held onto their yearbooks).

You may be wondering how this injury occurred.

Was I on the receiving end of a hard tackle during football practice?

Did a death-defying skateboard trick I was performing go awry?

Had it been a side-effect of my disarming a knife-wielding home intruder?

In truth, my unsightly blemish was the result of accidentally bashing my head into the corner of a wall as I rocked out to the stereo.

I thought of this today as I sat in Urgent Care, waiting for the doctor to determine the extent of my calf injury that has made it virtually impossible for me to put any weight on my right leg for the past 24 hours. Again, my timing is impeccable; I’m supposed to be leaving Thursday for a brief, but activity-filled trip to the Bay Area.

I’d like to tell you that this latest injury was the result of me pushing my body to its absolute limit at the gym. Or a particularly grueling Ultimate Fighting Championship match. A game of Bedroom Olympics gone haywire.

Anything but, “Stepped on tile too hard while walking into my kitchen”.