The running is going well, except for my freaking heels. I think I'm getting plantar fasciitis. Meh. Treatment involves not going barefoot around the house, icing for two 15 minute periods each night, and stretching the fuck out of my calves. Actually, stretching the fuck out of everything. Funny I used that analogy because I've been too tired for sex of any kind for the last I don't know how long. I'm sure Erik has been counting, though. Anyway, that's not my point. Sweet Emily, also a budding long-distance runner, taught me that plantar fasciitis is primarily caused by tight calf muscles pulling against the heel. Gross.
I also just found out this morning that my sweet recluse of a little brother is really ill. Some ulcerous something or other. I wish I could remember the actual name of the condition to facilitate a WebMD search. That's probably for the best. Last night, I searched on WebMD for "chills" or something similar, and received a long list of brand name prescription drugs as my search results, and a few diagnostic results that pretty much told me that I'm dying. WebMD has officially jumped the shark. It's always been a hypochondriac's wet dream, but now it's just a pharmaceutical corporate tool.
Interestingly, WebMD is quite professional and un-YOU ARE DYING A LONG AND PAINFUL DEATH when you search for "plantar fasciitis," which sounds way more forboding than "chills." They even have helpful diagrams of the foot.
However, they were also sure, once they had lured me in with the nicely scientific looking foot, to recommend a bunch of much more serious conditions that I might be mistaking for plantar fasciitis, including nerve entrapment syndrome and sciatica. From the sciatica information page, "In rare cases, sciatica can also be caused by conditions that do not involve the spine, such as tumors or pregnancy." TUMORS! PREGNANCY!
Since, according to paragraph 1, I'm certainly not pregnant, I therefore must have a tumor. Farewell, my loves. Farewell. Don't cry for me.
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