Odd thing about bruises. They remind you of your stupidity at the oddest time. Even when you don't stare at them, they make themselves known. And then there is the constant cracking and flexing of road rash on an also-bruised kneecap. A keen eye will observe three areas of impact. It hurts worse than it looks. Especially when you're trying to watch a show and your daughter decides to poke one of them. We both jump at my reaction. Me from the surprise of pain. Her from the surprise of my yelp. A good laugh for both of us.
Then a run. Five kilometers through the jungle-like humidity of a post-thunderstorm South Mississippi. Felt good. Despite the rivulets of sweat. Should have done more. Trying not to over-do it, though. Short run today. Running drills Wednesday. Long run Friday. Ten weeks until Augusta. It all hinges on my run. In the meanwhile, it just: recover from these bruises.
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