Well, now I know that I have declared war against someone who employs voodoo.
I decided to run a different route yesterday and turned onto a road that sprouted off into gravel. A car was headed in my direction and stopped suddenly when the driver saw the gravel. Tuesday was a weird day for drivers as I had close shaves in both commutes, and I was sure he'd back into me. I kept my eye on him but didn't stop running, and I stumbled in a pothole. Down goes Frazier.
I scraped my knee, and it wouldn't have been so gruesome had I not banged up my knees with bike wrecks when I was younger. I have thin scar tissue, and it went away easily. I was half a mile from home, and there wasn't much pain; I decided to run as much as I could. It turned out to be a bad running day. I had breathing trouble, and a bug flew into my eye. But I jogged for close to 20 minutes. My knee was a horror movie by the time I got home to clean it up, and I hope I increased my street cred by running with this caked mess on my leg.
It's not so sore this morning. I'm bandaged and limping slightly. This is nothing compared to those crashes of yore such as when the bike rusted apart into two pieces, and I belly flopped on the road. That required the good people of the emergency room.
Dad called. He had another chemo yesterday. His blood work is fine, and he's gained four pounds in two weeks. He aims for 1,000 calories a meal. He's halfway through his chemo and plans to go back to work in June.
Picture of the Day
I'm in a Hanks mood lately. I watched Cast Away twice recently and picked up a free copy of Philadelphia when I bought the Cloverfield DVD.