Half-hour mile

Here I sit stretching my toes back toward my knees while I sit at my computer after my first post-injury workout. Bleh. Never before has a workout felt so non-productive.

I haven't been doing much of anything workout-related, as my complete dearth of posts on this blog attests, for the last two months. I've been taking things extra slow and easy since I was diagnosed last weekend with plantar fasciitis.

As you can imagine, doing a thing after lots of not doing anything was surprisingly invigorating. Invigorating? Surprising. Surprising to my muscles. They are surprised. And feeling a bit wonky.

I walked a whopping 0.95 mile in a little over a half hour. Go team sloth. Like the little sloths you see clinging to trees and eating ants at the speed of a sarlaac pit. I was afraid of going much faster for fear of pulling a vital tendon and having to learn to walk on my hands or some other overreactionary thing.

I did get to see 5 fire trucks, an ambulance, and a fire department SUV approach the Burger King close to my house, so that was exciting for me and gave me a reason to amble a bit more quickly home to tell my boyfriend of the splendors of the out of doors.

Back to stretching, and perhaps some non-vigorous television with said boyfriend.