And I was truly enjoying myself and marveling at how great I felt post-marathon and making all sorts of witty mental notes about Euro runners and the abundance of manpris.
And then my left foot totally crapped out: Horrible, sharp, piercing pain that started on top of my foot and radiated outward.
My run lasted all of 25 minutes. And then I had to limp two-something miles back to the apartment. (And on the way, I got hit on by a French dude who told me I looked good and asked me for coffee. When I said no, he asked me if I wanted to have a cigarette. Which makes perfect sense since a cigarette is exactly what I want after run-limping. Whatever. I'll quit being bitchy and take it as a compliment that someone thought my gimpy ass was worth talking to.)
And I haven't been able to walk since. I hobbled down the street for lunch at Comme Sur Une Ile, which thankfully is only a block away ...
... and then hobbled across the street to the pharmacy for anti-inflammatory cream ...
... and then spent the rest of the day in the apartment, icing my foot and reading and trying not to think about Ghostie turning the bathroom lights on and playing with the shower door.
My foot is swollen around the outer ankle bone, and I don't have full range of motion. It also hurts to put weight on it. But the worst part is being stuck indoors on vacation. I feel slightly helpless and isolated and like I'm wasting precious time. And I'm a blatant traffic target now -- if I almost got hit by a bus yesterday with full mobility, there's no way I could escape limping around like I am.
Fingers crossed that by resting today, I will feel better tomorrow and can explore again.