The agony of defeat.

Nothing like spending a totally enjoyable full day at work with people you actually really like, followed by an evening at unpaid-second-job with people you really like, and then coming home to a letter stating that your $250 parking ticket appeal was denied despite your best efforts and newspaper citations/article inclusions and the fact that it was a totally bogus ticket to begin with.

BAH.

That said, other than Her Majesty replaying scenes from "She Hate Me"* for the past week because I've been coming home late and going straight to the computer to finish up things for work and then going right to bed, I'm feeling much better than I did on Monday. I'm still bummed about my leg - the prognosis from the orthopedic doctor yesterday wasn't really promising ("I've never seen anything like this... bodies weren't meant to run 26 miles... why not sign up for a half marathon instead... I'm getting you to a physical therapist... etc etc"), but we'll see what the PT says tomorrow.

In part I think I don't want to come to terms with signing up for the half (versus the whole) because I know it will blow my whole motivated regimine out of the water, and I feel like I've already gained 5 pounds this week just from "resting."

Also I have about 50 people who ask me how it's going all the time, and honestly, I don't want to let them down. It's really dumb - they aren't going to be the ones pushing my wheelchair around when I rip all the tendons and ligaments in my legs to shreds. But still they motivate me.

On the other hand, being able to walk when I'm 50 is kinda appealing...

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* No, I didn't actually watch that crap. It's just the only thing that comes to mind when I glance over and see the cold glares of annoyance radiating from the small ball of fur that is clearly resenting the fact that I'm not sitting on the couch with a free, warm lap.