You see there are many reasons not to do exercise doggy-style. I encountered one yesterday. I was going down a staircase in the park at a reasonably fast clip (You have to understand that this staircase is kind of a piece of crap. The stairs are about 14-18 inches from top to bottom and it's old old OLD) when a loose piece of asphalt gave way and I rolled my ankle. Now when I say I rolled my ankle, I mean I FUCKING ROLLED MY ANKLE. I probably went to 90 degrees on it, and as soon as it happened I knew it was going to be a sprain. The pain faded after about a minute but I knew it would return, so I did the only sensible thing. I went four more miles.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Needless to say when I got back and the endorphins faded the pain came back in full force and I can say with confidence that it is, in fact, nicely sprained. Very nicely sprained. I elevated it, duct taped a couple ice packs to it, and waited for the pain to subside, which it really didn't. So I went to sleep, DESPITE the pain (Painkillers are for GIRLS. I cannot stress this enough!) and now I'm up and its swollen and tender and I'm pissed not because of the pain (which there is plenty of) but because I can't walk on it which means I can't go out with my friend Gabe who is in from Italy for the week, and the rest of that malarky.
On the plus side if my writing stinks over the next few days it's because I'm distracted by the fact that my ankle is four times the size it should be and I can't really walk, so I've got that going for me.
As for those of you who were like "Treadmills suck, go out in the street like a dog." I still want to thank you, so let me just grab my hacksaw and we can begin.