full-on frowny

Well. Nine days after literally busting my butt on the ice, I'm still walking painfully like a senior citizen, clearly have yet to run a single mile and have officially given up hope of running the Little Rock Half-Marathon. Which is in 25 days, not that it matters with regard to my sad life anymore.

UGH. I AM NOT HAPPY. Basically I am this:

Source

+ this:

Source

Only I'm less cute and more bitchy. Reasons I am not happy:

1. My stupid butt. I have a really bony butt, like embarrassingly bony, like I can't go to restaurants and sit on un-padded chairs because I will be in legit pain in about 20 minutes. I have the whitest white-girl booty you've ever seen. So of course it should have occurred to me that falling hard on said bony white-girl booty would probably result in a more-than-casual injury, because I have zero padding back there. Of course it did not occur to me, which just adds insult to the ongoing injury.
2. I can't go to the doctor to properly diagnose my butt injury because I don't have insurance, because I quit my job and moved to California to be with my now ex-boyfriend, where presumably there is no ice to slip on, OH MY GOD THIS BUTT THING IS JUST BRINGING UP RAGE ABOUT SO MANY OTHER THINGS. Through the magic of the Google, I have determined that my tailbone is in fact bruised and not broken, not that it matters because either way there's not much a doctor can do for it except offer ibuprofen and ice and pat me on the back. But still. It would be nice to know for sure.
3. I HATE QUITTING THINGS, and if I had NOT fallen on my ass and had been able to continue my last-minute training plan, I would have been able to run that half-marathon no problem. It probably wouldn't have been pretty but I believe I would have beat my tumor time, and I would have also gotten to spend the weekend with the giraffe, drinking wine and coffee and loving the balmy 40-degree temperatures in Little Rock. Now instead I am going to suffer alone, with my butt, in the Great White North. Probably with wine, as clearly alcohol is all I have left.
4. I hate the Great White North. Can I please move anywhere, except for back to Virginia? Can I please get a job so I can get out of here? It is so cold outside that every uncovered part of my body (aka my face, my hands) physically hurts after about 10 seconds of venturing outside.
5. (the kicker) When I am this crabtacular, running is basically the only thing that makes me feel better. Aaaaaaaand I can't.

Well, maybe that's not entirely true, because whining about things on the internet just now kind of made me feel better. KIND OF.

Anyway, probably I will keep blogging about ridiculous things that happen to me, but unfortunately my posts will probably not include any running for awhile, like until my butt TAILBONE heals. (I really have to start embracing the term "bruised tailbone" rather than "broken butt" because it is more socially acceptable, like I can't tell my boss I can't do things at work because my butt hurts, even though - surprise! - I already told her that like 17 times.)

As a sad final note, please observe the email I received from the Daily Mile this week:


Thanks, jerkfaces. Appreciate it.