Sunday, April 4, 2010

A Sunday Morning in Suburbia

I am smiling this morning as I sit writing this. Perhaps it is the Percocet the nice folks at Somerset Medical Center hooked me up with an hour or so ago? Perhaps it is the incredibly fortuitous convergence between "How I Spent My Sunday Morning" and the terrific music link Bill has included in his blog this morning. Running Up That Hill indeed. Not today. Not this guy.

Oh the joy of living in suburbia! When one lives a distance away from a thriving urban metropolis, then one can descend on the local hospital's Emergency Department in the pre-dawn hours of Easter Sunday to get treated for a problem so trivial - on life's larger scale - that the woman at patient registration has to fight hard against the temptation to ask aloud, "Could you spell your last name for me Mr. Douche?" A real SRO crowd in the Emergency Department this morning: Your Truly and some equally snarfy suburbanite whining about his back. I was thrilled that no one with an actual emergent medical problem arrived while I was there. Had that occurred I think the injury to my ego would have hurt significantly worse than that to my right knee.

I am officially on the shelf for a couple of weeks. The good news about a knee sprain is that other than resting, applying ice and elevating it, there should be no further medical intervention required. I broke the bad news to my running buddy Gidg that I am abandoning her vis-a-vis our agreed upon participation in a half-marathon on April 18th. Oh well. I suppose that I shall have to wait until 2011 to cross that off of my bucket list. Something to shoot for; right?

And you will run your time, a shooting star across the sky.
And you will surely cross the line, to pass on the flame, pass on the flame.

Not me. Not today. Soon though I shall be back at it. Resurrected? Well let us not get carried away, the season notwithstanding.


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