Random Broken Foot Thoughts... Or Are They?

Sorry I've been lousy on the posting lately. I've been damn busy. Plus, this whole broken foot fiasco as it has turned out hasn't been all that interesting. I figured it would be nothing but shenanigans (Oh my goodness, another 'Days of Our Lives' drop!), like everywhere I went the cast and crutches would come into play and comedy would ensue. And sure I splattered all over the floor of the men's room at the Miami Airport and I saw a dead goat along the way, but in the end I found myself sitting on the couch doing nothing and there isn't anything riveting about that.

Anyhow, here are some random broken foot related thoughts to chew on...

The trip to Denver wasn't the apocalypse I feared it would be. That doesn't mean it was all roses. The trip proved to be worthless. The "seminar" myself and my co-worker attended was three days of pointless drivel that could have been snipped down to one single email or a twenty minute phone call.

The whole time I thought of an old United Airlines commercial from when i was a kid. It was about a company struggling with some of their nationwide clients and to get everyone back on board the boss decided to send a sales person to each of these clients because a handshake was better than a phone call. Well maybe in 1985 when that phone call might have necessitated rotary dialing 11 numbers. But in 2008, an email will suffice. Especially with the crap this seminar covered.

But crutch-wise there was no catastrophe in Denver. Thanks to American Airlines, I got to experience the regional jet for the first time. For those of you who have done any sort of travelling in the last ten years, you are probably familiar with the regional jet. They seem to be all the rage with the airlines, especially when flying to a po-dunk town like St Louis. They are actually quite nice, however they are not the idea aircraft to board while on crutches. In fact we did come close to crutch related horror while deplaning in Denver. Instead of maneuvering the jetway all the way to the plane's door, they left about a three foot gap. Then they put this little bridge thing between the two. So my turn comes to get off the plane and this bridge is too narrow to crutch over, so I decided to hop it. And I nearly knocked the bridge right off in the process. Though I'm not sure the damage would have been too bad, as the fall would have only been about four feet to the ground.

On the way back though, American did me a great favor by cancelling my flight home on the regional jet and rebooking me on Frontier Airlines. Frontier is one of those airlines that has TV at every seat. Man, that is the only way to fly! As soon as I turned it on and started flipping around, I found an old episode of my favorite cartoon from my youth, Voltron!! That flight home was the best flight ever! So I gotta hand it to Frontier Airlines!

And while we're doling out 'I gotta hand it to's we might as well throw someone 'in the crosshairs'. It's this guy!

Kent Ehrhardt of Newschannel 4. Since I have had this broken foot, St Louis has experienced snowstorm after snowstorm after snowstorm. The one we got yesterday was the biggest of the bunch, with 12 inches at my house. And this clown, just hours before we got dumped on called for two to five inches of snow. And he was sure of it.

Yeah, yeah, I know this isn't that big of a deal, but he does it all the time! A few years back we all went to bed thinking the blizzard of the century was coming because 'Count on Kent' called for ten inches of snow overnight. Schools and businesses canceled for the next day. Grocery stores were pillaged. and we woke up the next morning to nothing! Not a flake!

My point is, Kent, stop trying to predict snow. Just tell us that it will probably snow and that you have no clue how much it will be. All weathermen do this, but I really don't like 'Count on Kent', so he is in the crosshairs!!

Oh, one other thing. I was driving around the other day when I overheard my left shoe telling my right shoe about all of the things he missed while I had my cast on. The trips to Miami and Denver, all the snow, the Superbowl, etc. It was so cute! It was one of those moments as a shoe owner you just wish you could bottle and sell.

So, I've bee walking a bit. Not a whole lot, but I've definitely been walking. All my foot can handle at this point is slow walking. Agonizingly slow. So I usually crutch to the general area I need to be and then I walk around there. That severe sensation of "my foot is asleep" is gone and now it just gets achy from six weeks of no use. The good thing is that the discomfort I felt before the cast is gone, so my five years of college mind believes I am healed!!

And then there's this. I had the follow up MRI yesterday. If you've never had an MRI, it is simultaneously simple and a pain in the arse. When I had the MRI back in January to confirm the broken bone, I was an MRI virgin. They lay you down and secure your foot and then slide your foot into this tunnel. Then they give you headphones to listen to the radio because the MRI machine is quite loud. So I'm all comfy and good to go when the dude goes, "Okay, this will take about an hour."

An hour! WTF!? It's 2008, this is the best technology can give us? And you have to be completely still throughout this process. The MRI goes through a series of scans and each one lasts anywhere from two to eight minutes, during which time even the slightest move would require a do over of that scan. And sure enough, near the end of the hour, I started to dose off and I got the Jimmy Leg twitch. So it is simple in the fact that you just lay there. But a pain in the arse in that you can't move and you have to do it forever!

Anyhow, I'm getting my two year old ready this morning when the phone rings. I let the machine pick it up and it was the nurse at my doctor's office. "Hello Mr With the Broken Foot. We received your MRI results this morning and it does show some healing. Go ahead and keep your appointment with us for Friday morning and we'll see you then."

"Some healing"? What the hell does that mean? Is that, "There is some healing to suggest that 10 more weeks in a cast should completely heal it?" Is that, "There is some healing to suggest that the cast didn't work at all and we'll talk to you on Friday about your surgical options?" That could mean anything.

So I called back and sure enough "some healing" translates into the cast did everything they had hoped it would and that we're probably going to discuss some rehab options on Friday. She reiterated that this is a terribly difficult bone to heal and everybody I talk to with any sort of medical background cringes when I tell them I broke my navicular bone. So that is a little worrisome. But not worrisome enough to stop me from walking up the stairs when I got to work.

So there you have it. I am no longer Rob With the Broken Foot. Should I change the title of the blog?

So... I Thought This Was Over

For six weeks I had February 28th circled on the calendar. This was the day my misery would end! This was the day my mobility would return! When things would make sense again!

And...

Well...

Not so much.

The cast is gone! That is nice. My right leg looks like my grandmother's, but that is okay. I have some work to do to get my mammoth calf back. I have calves that Johnny Drama would want!!

But the crutches are still here. Ugh! Oh, the humanity!! It appears that my doctor doesn't want me attempting to walk on it until after the results of my follow up MRI come in. Unfortunately, the follow up MRI isn't even scheduled to take place until next Tuesday. Next Friday I am scheduled to go over the results.

Funny, you'd think they would have scheduled this MRI to be done, oh I don't know, maybe February 28th!! And if I still need the crutches, then why the hell did they take the cast off? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it is gone. But if the doctor is afraid that my foot isn't healed or if further damage can be done, so much so that I still require the crutches, then why take me out of the cast? And since my foot needs to be secure for the MRI to begin with, what better way for the MRI to be done than with my foot in a cast? There is very little danger of me moving my foot while in the cast.

The worst part is that I am still crutching around, only with a regular sock and a shoe on my right foot. So I look like the hypochondriac jackass who turned his ankle playing pick up basketball at the Y who just wants to crutch around for a day because his ankle hurts. It reminds me of the time my father was having some issues with his contact lenses. Technology like contact lenses is simply too complex for my dad, he should have just stuck with glasses. But he was having trouble with one of them and he kept complaining about it and so on and so forth. I work with my dad and one day we had a meeting with a potential client. I get to the meeting first and I'm small talking with this guy when this guy gets a frozen look of shock on his face. I turn over my shoulder and there is my dad, wearing an eye patch! I always wondered what Steve "Patch" Johnson's issues were. Must have been a faulty contact lens. (Yeah, I just referenced 'Days of Our Lives'. I'm cool with that!)

I was afraid of looking like one of these guys and sure enough, I went to the store last night to pick up some dinner. I walk in right as this dad and his little girl are walking in. This girl is about five years old and she is just staring at me, my crutches, and my seemingly fine right foot I had dangling in the air. So she asks her dad, "What's wrong with that man?" This dude looks me up and down, sees my bandage-less foot, rolls his eyes and says, "I don't know honey, looks like he hurt himself." And the girl kept staring at me. I love kids. I have one. I used to be the director of a children's summer day camp. And yet throughout this whole crutched process, that little girl came the closest of getting one of my crutches upside the head! I wanted to tee off on her like a 3-wood!

Make no mistake though, even if the doctor gave me the green light to try walking, I don't think I'd be able to do it. The discomfort is way more than I imagined it would be. I can stand still on both feet just fine. But if I even think of transferring the majority of my weight to the right foot all sorts of bells and whistles go off. Even range of motion exercises hurt quite a bit, but it is sort of a no pain, no gain thing, and I have been encouraged to do those. And this morning I drove with my right foot rather comfortably. But I sort of thought I was going to be Superman and running on the treadmill last night. Not the case.

The best part of yesterday though was my first castless shower in six weeks! This was probably one of the best showers I have ever had. I can't recall any other great showers. I'm sure there were a few. But this one was right up there! The best part was taking one of those pumice stones to my foot and leg to grind off six weeks worth of dead skin cells! I felt like I was molting! I enjoy feeling like an insect. The pain sucks, but I enjoy getting a sunburn because I know that I'll be able to peel. Good times!!

So anyhow, I guess until I get confirmation from my MRI that my foot is healed I am still Rob With The Broken Foot. So the adventures continue. Stay tuned.

One Week To Go!!

Man! Five weeks down, one to go!! Where has the time gone? These past five weeks have gone by like, well, five weeks I guess. As much of a pain in the arse these cast and crutches have become, you'd think that I'd be doing crutched cartwheels over the thought of only one more week of this hell. But I'm pretty indifferent about it.

Firstly, this hellish situation hasn't exactly been as hellish as I thought it would be. I really haven't stopped doing anything because of the broken foot. Still drive. Still go to work. Still went shopping. Still went to hockey games and the theater. Still got on a plane and went on vacation to Miami. So my life hasn't been drastically different because of this. I certainly haven't become a hermit living only in my living room. My wife wishes I were a little more able bodied around the house, but I can't say that missing out on house chores is "hellish".

And while there is the odd inconvenience, usually involving where to put my crutches when not using them, at the end of these six weeks I'm not going to feel like I missed out on anything. So there's that.

B) Standing between me and the big bright light at the end of the tunnel is a business trip to Denver. I just think it really sucks that I have to wait until after this trip to get the cast sawwed off. C'mon, are 4 days really going to make a difference!!? Even though the Miami trip went well (Other than falling flat on my face in the bathroom at the Miami airport.), and everything to this point has gone by rather uneventfull, I just have a sneaky feeling something will go awry with this Denver trip. I don't know whether it will have something to do with the flights or something that will happen at the seminar I am attending or whatever, I just have this sinking feeling that some sort of horrible, crutch-related circus act is going to happen on this trip. I hope I am wrong. So even though I have just one week to go, and theorhetically this trip will probably make this week go by even faster, I'm still not going to do that crutched cartwheel until I return.

Also, I'm not sure I'm all that excited to be walking again. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather walk than crutch! And if I could, I'd tear this cast off right now and walk the best I could. But I remember when Manhattan Mike had a similar foot ailment a few years back and I actually drove him to the doctor on our lunch break to have the cast removed. I remember him hurting when he took his first step out of the cast. I laughed because I thought he was kidding, but he wasn't.

And I think I know what he felt. I have accidentally slipped up a few times lately and put a limited amount of weight on my broken foot. Yeah, that doesn't feel too good. Not in a "Holy crap, this sucker is still broken" sort of way, but rather a "Man, I haven't used this thing in 5 weeks and it is going to be uncomfortable to put all of my weight on it" way. It isn't a pain though. It is more of an extreme numbness, does that make any sense? Like, you know that tingly sensation you get when your foot falls asleep? Well, it feels like that, times a million! And this is only with a very small amount of weight put on it. So while I am looking forward to walking again next Thursday, I'm not looking forward to that.

Plus, the doctor isn't being too forthcoming regarding my post cast rehab. And all of these expert foot doctors floating around the world, like Dr fish Guy, are certain that I'll need a walking cast or some other form of healing aparatus. Whatever. Screw those folks!! I plan on running 10 miles next Friday morning!! Bring it on!!

Dr Fish Guy

So I went to buy some fish for my aquarium yesterday. Picked up a Plecostomus and a Clown Loach as well as a new brush to scrub the glass inside the aquarium. I had a seemingly friendly fellow helping me out. He was a real fish enthusiast. He tried to sell me a couple of other kinds of fish, but I was only looking for a couple. But he was really excited about the fish he netted for me. He went on and on about how much life these two particular fish seemed to have.

I was looking at this guy and I couldn't figure him out. He sported a wedding ring, so he landed a spouse. He was an older gentleman, probably in his mid to late fifties. And by golly, he loved fish! Was he a life long fish guy. Did he start out in the fish industry right out of high school and here he was forty years later!? Or was he retired successful business man who now passes his time talking fish with people at the pet store? He could be either. But he seemed like a nice enough guy.

Until he asked me about my broken foot.

I mentioned last week that I was sick of telling the stress fracture story. I really should just start making stories up. I survived a plane crash in the Amazon! I stepped in a bear trap! I pissed Tanya Harding off. But no, for the Fish Guy I told the truth and he proceeded to tell me how I'll be lucky to walk without a limp ever again, let alone run.

Hey Dr Fish Guy, keep your highly educated foot healing comments to yourself! Unless I'm giving you a co-pay and I see some sort of diploma on the wall, you're just the Fish Guy and I owe you $6 for the fish. If my gourami loses a fin, I'll seek your advice. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let Dr Fish Guy tell me my running days are over!

Puppet Sex

A bunch of years ago I remember going to see 'There's Something About Mary" at the theater. And who should sit next to me but some 70-something grandmother and her two grand daughters who had to be around 10-years old, give or take. Knowing the sort of crude comedy we were in store for, I remembered thinking to myself, "Lady, do you have any idea of what you are about to see?" And yes, the hair gel scene was made much more funny to me when I got to see the old lady next to me squirm and then one of her grand daughters ask, "Grandma, why was there hair gel on his ear?"

I had a simmilar experience last night as I took the wife out for a little Valentine's Day culture at the Fox Theater. Broadway sensation 'Avenue Q' was in town. And sitting next to me were two older women. Not "Gee, is it nursing home night at the Fox?" old, but certainly "I don't think they are going to appreciate the cursing puppets" old.

Yes, this particular show has cursing puppets. The puppets joke about race. One of the puppets is gay. The puppets sing a song about porn. And at one point two of the puppets make a little love. Well, that is putting it kindly. They were going at it pretty good. Ah hell, I've dropped an f-bomb on the blog before, them puppets was fuckin'!! The choreography was outstanding! And yes, the enjoyment of watching puppet porn was heightened for me by looking to my left and seeing the shock on the faces of the two ladies next to us. Ah, good times!

But seriously folks, who goes to a show anymore without knowing anything about it. I understand that sometimes it is better to go into a show or a movie without any prior knowledge. I told my wife nothing about where we were going last night, and she had never heard of 'Avenue Q', even though she drives by the billboard advertising it twice a day. But I knew she would enjoy it. How did the two older women next to me come to the decision to go see this particular show?

And it wasn't just the two women next to me, the majority of the crowd was over 60! I know because I had to wait in line behind most of them for 30 minutes after the show to get down from the balcony via the elavator because they didn't want anything to do with the stairs. I think the show was pretty good, but I'll never really know because the crowd was never into it. I'm a believer that a great crowd can make a so-so show/concert/sporting event even better. And conversely, a bad crowd can make a great show suck. So while my wife and I were cackling with approval of all the raunchy puppet punchlines, too many people in the crowd were sitting there thinking, "Oh my, that puppet just said shit."

I'm sure the cast went backstage afterwards and said, "Except for the that couple up in the balcony, that was a piss poor crowd out there tonight!"

Oh well. It was a good show though. I'll leave the techincal review of 'Avenue Q' to my pal Manhattan Mike, whose blog Midwesterner's Guide to Broadway provides comprehensive analysis to Broadway's best, as I'm sure his grovelling will score him free tickets to the show in NYC any day now. And I'm sure he'll see it with a livlier crowd.

What does any of this have to do with my broken foot? Well, as I said, I did have to take the elavator, which was a treat. Aside from waiting with the Matlock gang afterwards, I enjoyed the elavator at the Fox because this is the same elavator the building had when it opened it's doors in 1929. It had an operator who manually opened the doors and the whole deal. It was kinda charming.

Hmmm, what else. Oh yeah, I nearly fell down the steps to my certain death again. I just cannot crutch down stairs. The first time I tried, right outside the doctor's office after I got the cast put on, I careened right off the top step. Normally I just put both crutches in my left hand, hold the railing with my right hand and hop down steps one by one. But last night I got ballsy and decided to give crutching down the stairs another shot. Thankfully my wife was there to grab the scruff of my collar. Thankfully the theater had pretty much cleared out and very few people saw the near tragedy. And thankfully we were only in the second row up from the aisle, so had I continued my downward motion, I probably wouldn't have killed myself. But I'm sure some other broken appendage would have ensued.

Another thing I am sick of is complete strangers asking me "Oh no, what happened to your leg?" The two golden girls I mentioned above, they got to asking me about it. I understand people are trying to be nice. I understand there is no ill will intended. But I really am sick of it. It reminds me of when my wife and I were on our honeymoon in Hawaii. The whole flight out there, no one said two words to us, yet as soon as we got off the plane, people started oogling at us because it was obvious we were on our honeymoon. Sure, there were some perks. At a couple of restaurants we were seated at the best tables. We scored a few free desserts and what not. But after a while we were both like "Yeah, yeah. We're on our honeymoon. Quit staring at us!!"

The good news is that I now have less than two weeks to go!

The Sick

When I was trying to find a bright spot to this whole broken foot situation, I reasoned that I couldn't have picked a better time of year to have this happen. It wasn't summer with the oppressive heat and yard chores to keep up with. It wasn't around the holidays. Other than the marathon, this whole situation wasn't interfering with anything.

But now that I think about it, I should have seen the fact that there is just no way that I could go a six week stretch in January and February without getting "the sick". My pal Manhattan Mike and I affectionately refer to the cold/flu/sinus infection that everyone gets this time of year as "the sick". Since everyone has a different opinion as to what the flu, the cold, and a sinus infection actually are, and usually one man's definition of the flu is another man's definition of a cold and vice versa, it's just easier to call it the sick.

Well, I have the sick. There is an insane amount of pressure in my head, particularly behind my eyes and around my ears. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to jam a steak knife into my ear to relieve the pressure. There is a burnt sienna hued substance coming out of my nose and my throat. And I have that hurt all over hurt, which as you can imagine makes crutching a whole lot of fun. This sucks.

Thankfully my doctor was able to send a prescription into Walgreens for me without me having to visit him, though the nurse on the phone as quite confused when she asked me what I had nd I simply said I had the sick. In addition to some pills, there is this killer syrup I have to take right before bed. This stuff is supposed to knock me out and I really can't wait until I wrap this blog up and take a shot of that stuff!

So with that being said, cheers.

A Good Clensing

How was your Monday? Good? Did you have a camera jammed up your ass today? I did. Yep, it was time for Rob with the Broken Foot to check in for his first colonoscopy! For once my broken foot wasn't the most pressing medical issue placed before me.

You may be asking, but Rob, you're such a young, sprightly fellow, aren't colonoscopies reserved for folks in their fifties and beyond? Great question! Yes, typically more mature people than myself get to experience the greatness that is the colonoscopy. But I went in to see my doctor a few weeks ago, played twenty questions with him, and based on my answers this was my prize. The big issue is that I have a history of colon cancer in my family. And since I have a young child now and presumeably more on the way, I was more than ready to bend over to see what's going on down there.

Now I've had the upper endoscopies before, the one where they stick the camera down your throat to check out your esophagus and stomach, and I knew that for this proceedure I'd be sedated. So I knew I wouldn't be awake while the snake-like camera made its way north, which is why I had no problems with having this done. What I wasn't prepared for was the day before.

Before you have something like this done, you need to clense the entire digestive system. I've heard from others who have gone through this that this part isn't particularly fun. And I'm not about to shed any positive light on the process.

First order of business is not to eat anything upon waking up. I could eat some Jello, or any other clear (non-alcoholic) fluids. That was all I could consume yesterday. Then I needed to mix the concoction that would do the clensing. I was prescribed this giant four liter jug with powder inside. Then I was to pour lemon-lime Gatorade into the jug and shake it up. The resulting beverage resembled anti-freeze. Everyone I talked to prior to this described the fluid as Drano, and for obvious reasons. But from the moment I mixed it together all I could think of was Prestone.

Now, I don't know what anti-freeze tastes like, but I'm fairly certain this crap was close to it. Either that or it tasted like what I would imagine the Mississippi River would taste like in New Orleans, and I say this because there was a sea water flavor involved. So it was equal parts sea water and garbage juice. My instructions were to drink eight ounces of this magic potion every ten minutes. It was so bad it nearly took me ten minutes to drink the first eight ounces!

And basically what this fluid does to you is it gives you the flu. It even says that vomitting may occur. Everything in your system comes flushing out of you. At one point I saw a piece of gum I swallowed six years ago! Being on crutches and thus not being able to run to the bathroom in a traditional sense, I ended up just taking up residence in the bathroom for about two hours, which proved to be smart. And afterwards you feel lousy, just like if you had the flu.

The worst part of all though, is the fact that you can't eat anything! Even when you have the flu you can have some crackers or some soup. Sure I could have had more Jello, but that wasn't what I wanted. And my mind just wandered from one type of food I wanted to the next. I couldn't go to sleep last night because I was thinking about food!

Whew, time to go to bed. This is just like Christmas eve, the quicker I get to sleep the quicker I can get this over with and have something to eat! Oh man, what will I eat first!? I'm in the mood for some waffles! Maybe I can stop off and get some waffles on the way home. Mmmmm! (Sound of stomach growling.) Ugh! I have to take my mind off of food! Let's think about something else. Anything else... Ah, yes. Thursday night, Valentine's Day! We're going out! Gonna be a good time. Man, I can't wait until we try that new restaurant that night. I've heard such good things! Should I get an appetizer or a salad? Or both!!? (Growl.) Oh man!! There I go again, thinking about food!! I gotta think about something else. Let's see. Something non-food related. Ah yes, I'll relive one of the greatest nights of my life! The night the Cards won the World Series and I was there for it!! Ah, good times!! This will drift me off to sleep! Okay, okay. Where to start? Man, it was cold that night. I remember walking into the stadium with a lot of confidence. I knew the Cards would win that night!! Then I walked right over and bought a bratwurst and a beer. Oh man, that brat and beer was good. Whew, I could go for a brat and a beer right now!! (Grrrrrrrrrrr.) Ahhhh!

Somehow I made it through the night and to the proceedure this morning. Compared to the hell that yesterday was, what happened this morning was a breeze. Did I mention they sedate you for this? Let me just say this, if the those sedation drugs were available on the street, I would have a drug problem. They are fantastic! They made the whole process worth it! Great, great stuff!

The weird part is that from the moment they put you under to the moment you come to, it feels like no time has past, but you feel so well rested! If sleep were judged on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most thorough sleep one can get, my average every night sleep would be a 6 and this sedated sleep would be about a 57!

Coming out of the sleep is the exact opposite of drinking yourself to the point of passing out. When you first open your eyes you are completely incoherent and you don't make any sense whatsoever. Of course, this is the moment the doctor chooses to come tell you what he found. Thankfully my proceedure did not uncover anything abnormal. I can't imagine what the conversation would have been like if he had bad news.

Doctor: Rob, we found something that we are pretty suspicious of. I'm affraid it might be a tumor.

Me: Connect four!!

Anyhow, that was my day. As I said before, I am more than willing to bend over in the name of catching cancer before it gets past the point of no return. But after entering the Prestone zone yesterday, I'm not so sure. Trust me folks, having a tiny camera inserted up Uranus is not the real issue with the colonoscopy. The clensing is the issue! Ugh!!

And what kills me are all of these infomercials selling clensing solutions as a weight loss tool. They try to tell you that you carry around an extra five to ten pounds of matter in your intestines and that clensing it out is good for you. So I decided to weigh myself before and after the clensing. I lost a pound and a half! That's it!! So for all of you folks looking for a new age way to shed some pounds, clensing is bullshit!

And now that my health is good and my belly is full, I'm back to moping around about my cast and crutches.

I Gotta Hand It To...

The guy who invented the formular to come up with your porn name. You know, the first name is your childhood pet and the last name is the street you grew up on. Not something quick and easy like "Buck Naked" which George Costanza used. Though I suppose it is possible he grew up on Naked Avenue with his schnauser Buck. But whoever came up with this formula is a genius! This is the type of stuff that will float through your mind when you're anchored down by a cast.

Let's take me. My porn name is Brandy Bedford. That's pretty strong! Of course it is a porn starlett's name, but really, wouldn't we all rather be porn starletts than one of the annonymous dudes who play the pizza delivery boys and the construction workers in this genre of cinemae? They aren't famous. There was no 'Dougie Does Decatur' series of films. So if I'm stuck being a famous pin cushion, so be it! Brandy Bedford it is!!

But still, we gotta have some dudes, right? So lets take a gander at my son's porn name, Woody Pepperwood. That name exudes male superiority in the porn industry. A guy like Woody Pepperwood starts out with the pool cleaner-type roles in his late teens and early twenties. He's not the star. But he's rapidly becoming the rising male star in the porn industry (No pun intended!!). By his mid twenties he is the star of his own series of films. Pepperwood becomes a verb! And by the time he is thirty, he is challenging Ron Jeremy as the most successful man in the porn kingdom! This is Woody Pepperwood of course, not my son.

It really is amazing how this formula works. Thinking back to all my friends and family and the pets they grew up with, I'm coming up with a whole gaggle of porn star names! Max Summerfield. Holly Wise. Fluffy Daugherty. Harry Sarah. Butch Central. Boots Harrison. Zipper Makayla. This is awesome!!

But the person who takes the cake has to be my buddy Boston Gabe. He grew up on Mistletoe St and his family had a Collie named Mandy. That's right folks, Mandy Mistletoe!!! Are you kidding me!!?? Again, Gabe would have to settle for the female porn star name, but with a name like Mandy Mistletoe who wouldn't?

Crutching to the Polls

I woke up this morning with the full expectation that I would have to write an "In the Crosshairs" blog about the voting process in these United States. It's Super Tuesday, folks! Get out and vote!! I did, and I must admit, it was a very pleasant experience that took all of about 45 seconds.

Voting has always been a pain in the arse, which is probably why so many people don't do it. This puzzles me because voting is one of the principals this country was founded on. It is one of the most important things we do as an American. All the opinionated thought on television, radio, internet and print media that we are bombarded with. All the signs in people's yards and bumper stickers on cars that we cannot avoid. All the smarmy talk show hosts with their punchlines. And most of all, all of the problems we face as a city, county, state, and country. How can you ignore all of that and not vote?

I feel this way as I embark to the polls. I feel like this is more important for me as an American than eating apple pie or watching baseball. I hum the Star Spangled Banner as I park the car. As I march, not walk but march, to the polling place an eagle lands on my shoulder to accompany me. And as soon as I open the door, the record player screeches to a halt and the eagle takes a crap on my jacket before taking off.

There is always mass chaos at the polling place! And I blame the people they put in charge of the polling places. Old people!

Now, I love old people. I do. Love 'em to death. But they have no earthly business running a major election for the most powerful country in the world! In the past, I have dealt with so much old person incompetence at the polling places it is maddening.

I walked up one time to the guy that has the giant list of names. This man was wearing some sort of contraption that was a cross between hobby magnifying goggles and a welder's mask. He needed this to read. Why was this man working the polling place? He can't even see!

One time they asked for my voter id card. I handed it over and they said they couldn't accept it until I signed it. So I grabbed a pen and began to sign it. Three elderly ladies working there all gasped in horror and told me I could not sign it there at the table and that I had to go somewhere out of sight to sign it. They sent me to the bathroom to do this and even had someone escort me there. The bathroom!!

Last time I voted, after going through the assembly line of old people to get a number, my name checked off, and then my name checked off some other list, an elderly lady asked me if I wanted to vote electronically or the old fashion style. I looked over at the polls. There were five old fashion booths and five electronic booths. No one was using the five old fashion booths while there was a hefty line for the electronic booths. Being somewhat in a hurry, I requested the old fashion ballot. All of a sudden this old lady turned into a sarcastic teenager and she says, "Well, why do you want to do that?" I explained my need to get to work on time. Then she tells me that she'd have to go over to the other side of the room to get the old fashion ballots and that it would be easier (for her) if I just went over to the electronic booth. I didn't budge and then she made a whole huge deal out of me being old fashioned.

Now, obviously these issues are not soley because these folks are old, I'm just choosing to emphasize this. Though it would seem like far more of a professional process if they got some younger blood in the polling place. So I have a solution.

If they make us all go to jury duty because it is our duty as an American to do so, I would not at all object to being called in to work a polling place. In fact, I'd probably take it a bit more seriously than I do my own job and you wouldn't have to deal with the endless sitting around like you do at jury duty. Clearly this would make employers upset because so many people would be taken away from work, but who cares. Besides, it would provide an incentive to employers to give the employees that do show up to work the flexibility to go out and vote. I know most employers are good about this, but some aren't. Or, better yet, to give the folks working the polls the freedom and to encourage more voter turn out, let's have the election on a Saturday or make election day a holiday. Just a thought.

This is my general feeling on the voting experience. However, this morning was easy as could be. I figured my crutches would surly cause me some sort of polling headache, but as I said, I was in and out in less than a minute. Though this frightens me. If there were no headaches for me on the front end, how do I know there are no headaches on the back end? Like what if some old codger presses the wrong button when downloading my electronic vote from this morning and my vote is lost? I wouldn't put it past these folks.

We need to get the bingo crowd out of the polls! If it is this bad here in Missouri, no wonder Florida elections are all screwed up. All of the old people live there!

Super Jammies

Have you ever gotten the urge to pick up a piece of clothing from one of your local sports teams? The team is hot and you're jumping on the bandwagon or maybe the boss throws you some tickets and you need something to wear to the game, but you don't want to make too much of a financial commitment and buy that $50 sweatshirt from the team store or from Macy's. So you go to WalMart or to Target. They usually have a nice selection of your team's gear. Of course the quality of the clothing is awful and after one trip through the wash one sleeve will be twice as long as the other and you won't be able to fit your head through the collar.

Have you ever noticed that mixed in with your team's gear, there is always one or two items of clothing for another team that has nothing to do with your geographic location? I notice this all the time now because my son will wear anything that has the Cardinals' or Blues' logo on it. So whenever I'm at one of these stores, I'll always check to see if anything in my son's size is on sale. And whenever I do this I always see something completely out of left field, like a Minnesota Vikings pair of gym shorts. Or a Golden State Warriors shirt. These items had to have just been put in the wrong box or something and the stock boys at WalMart just said, "Ah hell, put it out there and see if someone buys it." Then eventually it is put on sale and then on clearance until someone does.

This must explain why when I was about seven years old, I opened up one of my presents on Christmas morning and found a pair of New York Giants pajamas. It had the Tazmanian Devil in a Giants' uniform carrying a football and busting away from a couple of tacklers on the shirt and on the pants it had in big letters going down the right leg 'New York Giants'. And even at the age of seven I thought to myself, "Why the hell did my mother get these for me?" At the time, we still had the St Louis Football Cardinals. My family had season tickets. The Giants were a division rival! Was I going to open up a Chicago Cubs sweater next!?

Well, I outlined the answer above. The jammies ended up in the wrong box and were sent to St Louis. They sat on the rack at Target or WalMart (Or back then it could have been Venture!) for a few months, then it was put on sale, then clearance. My mom probably picked them up for $1.99. Viola!

I wore those jammies from time to time, but every time I did, as I would put them on I wondered why I had them. I didn't even like the Giants. In fact, I hated them. They always beat my Cardinals. They had that smug coach, Bill Parcels. And because we in St Louis developed a strong dislike for the New York Mets in the 80s, I took it a step further and hated all of the New York sports teams. And to this day I have a sour taste in my mouth about the New York Giants. That leads us to last night.

I think I am the only one this side of Hartford that wanted to see the New England Patriots finish off their undefeated season. I've had friends tell me I'm crazy. I've had friends tell me that I should hate the Patriots because they beat the Rams in the Superbowl a few years back. I've had friends tell me that the Patriots are cheaters and no one should support them (Which is ridiculous. EVERY TEAM CHEATS!!!! It's called gaining an edge. All 32 NFL teams do some sort of surveilance of the opposition, the Patriots were just the ones who got caught because the New York Jets' coach 'broke the code' and blew the whistle on the Pat's practices.).

Whatever. I liked the Patriots because they were fun to watch. The NFL has become so boring. It's become a defense first league. Look at the scoreboard this year. There were a ton of 10-6 and 7-3 final scores! Geez, wake me up when it is over! And here are the Patriots hanging 45 points a week, scoring at will, and rewriting the record book. What's not to like!? Yeah, yeah, I know they hail from the Boston area and the Boston sports fan can be a little tough to handle. But seriously, if in every game, one team wore a plain white uniform and the other team wore a plain grey uniform, with no names or numbers or logos so you basically had no idea who was who, which team would you root for? The entertaining one, right? Who goes to see the Globetrotters play wanting to see the Washington Generals win?

So yes, I wanted to see the perfect season completed last night, and if it meant the New York Giants lost, all the better. Didn't happen though, and I'll admit we have ourselves a much better sports story this morning than we would have if the Hatriots had ended up winning (Though, how huge would the story be if Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers had been the ones to win the Superbowl last night!?). The Patriots ended up playing like the St Louis Rams, some guy I've never heard of caught a pass with his helmet and Eli Van Der Beek went from being pro sports most well known kid brother to a legend. By the way, do you think little Eli wears those same jammies I had as a kid to bed every night? Do you think he wore them under his uniform last night?

When it is all said and done though, the best thing about the game last night is that the next time we see football, it'll be the summer and I'll be long out of this cast!!

And since today's post veered a bit off of the 'whacky adventures of Rob with the broken foot' topic, I'll leave you with this tidbit. I took a shower this morning. A successful shower. As I was getting out, I was sitting with my wet rear end on the edge of the tub drying my legs. As I was doing so, my butt started sliding back into the tub. You know how when you start to slide, initially it is slow, then it is really fast? That's what happened. Thankfully I caught myself before the back of my head went crashing into the tile wall. If that had happened and I would have been knocked out, one of two things would have happened. A) I would have come to after a few hours in a haze and noticed myself to be naked, with my upper body in the tub and my legs straight up in the air. That would have probably scared me back into a coma! Or 2) My wife would have come home to find me passed out in the position I just described. So needless to say, disaster averted!

And there you have your Crutch Boy fix of the day.

Superbowl

This was supposed to be the year we threw a big Superbowl bash at our house. I've always enjoyed having folks over to the house and cooking it up for them. We have become the place to go for 'Taconite"! We always host Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. We love it. But we never had the TV to support a Superbowl bash. We were going to change that for this Superbowl.

Our TV is on its last legs and even my wife has conceded that a new TV needs to be in the budget. One of the many great things about my wife is that when she buys a new appliance, she goes all out. She doesn't go for the cheapest brand or model. She wants what she buys to last forever. As a result we have a laundromat sized washer and drier and a dishwashed that most restaurants would die for. And her philosophy extends to the TV too. We're going hi-def baby!!

And the plan was to make it happen after Christmas when the prices came down a bit more. Then I ended up with the broken foot and we never made it happen before Super Sunday. It just seems like a lot of rigamarol to get the new TV set up. We have to go find the right TV. Find and entertainment center to go with it. Bring it home and set it up. Call the satellite company to upgrade to the HD package. Obviously, this is all worth while when you can see the pimple on top of the pimple on Tom Brady's nose, but I just never made it happen.

And like I said before, we love to have folks over for food and entertaiment and I am the chef. It isn't that my wife can't cook, she just hates doing it. I on the other hand really enjoy it. Not so much to become a chef one day. I would have a hard time creating a meal and then sending it out to the dining room for someone else to enjoy. But with the cast and crutches, cooking has become tough.

I've tried, usually to successful results, but I'm also sore when it is over. The crutches don't add a favorable component to the cooking process, so I usually leave them to the side and hop around the kitchen. This is leading me to think that I might be developing a stress fracture in my good foot now!! How's that for irony? The foot in the cast feels fine, the supposed good foot is sore and creaky.

But for this Super Sunday we're just going to head over to my in-law's house where there will be a giant spread of goodies. I plan on taking up residence on the couch and having people bring me plates of food. But next year, look out. The Super Bowl and Taconite will combine to rock the world!

Snow Day

Hmmmm. What perils await Crutch Boy as eight inches of the white stuff blanketted St Louis last night? Well, sadly, no perils so far. My son's daycare was shut down due to the snow, and my wife's boss wouldn't let anyone take a day off today. So I drove my wife to work and I am home with the kid. Besides, I'm not dumb enough to go crutching around in the snow. I'm enjoying a lazy day. I'm trying to get the numbness in my palms and fingertips to go away that developed in Miami last weekend, I guess from too much crutching. Any of you crutch experts out there know if this is normal? Does it go away? Anyone?

I did have the hankering to put together an "In the Crosshairs" blog today to venemously go after idiot drivers in the snow, specifically these freaks who only clear off their windshield of snow and drive around these giant igloos that dust a fresh coating of snow all over the roads that were just cleared. But then I thought that I would probably be that guy myself in the next couple of days as I probably won't be able to give my vehicle the proper snow clearing that I usually do (I drove the wife to work in her car this morning.)

But it does suck to be stuck at home with a two year old who is crying at the door because he wants to go outside and play in the snow and I can't do a thing about it. Having two giant snowstorms in one season is a bit new for St Louis. We got a big storm in December and now this one. My son loves it! He wants to make another snowman.

When I was a kid, it seemed like we were good for four or five snowstorms a winter, and a bunch of little ones mixed in. I remember the great blizzard of 1982. The funny thing was that my dad was talking about that storm yesterday when thinking about the snow we were about to recieve. And my dad said that storm in '82 dumped 32 inches of snow! I questioned his figure and he stood by it stubbornly. Then on the news last night they put up a graphic listing the biggest January snowstorms in St Louis history and there was the '82 storm; 13 inches! Ha!! If my dad lives another 20 years I guess he'll be telling people about the time 56 inches of snow fell in 1982!

But I would say over the last ten to fifteen years, our region has become quite light when it comes to winter precipitation. Could be Al Gore, could just be a weather cycle, who knows. But I do like getting the snow, even though I could do without it with the crutches.

Things to consider with having a broken foot in the snow...

When looking to go somewhere, only consider going places that have a parking garage. When the crutches are wet, I might as well be on ice. And even parking in a garage is useless if those freaks who don't clear the snow off of their entire car park in there and it starts to melt. I'm supposed to go to the Blues' game tonight with the wife and son and my wife is really excited because I am demanding we get there early, ensuring a spot in the garage. If the garage is full tonight, there will be no free food day heroics. I'll hand my tickets to the first person that wants them and go watch the game at home.

Shoveling the snow isn't happening. This is pretty obvious, but I am pretty picky about keeping my driveway shoveled. I quickly had a thought about shoveling on one foot, but just hopping from the bed to the dresser to get a sock wears out my left leg, so I'm fairly certain the shoveling thing is out. Besides, it is supposed to be 45 and rainy on Monday, that'll shovel the snow for me.

Drive carefully. If I were to end up in a snow related accident, I have all the confidence in the world that it would be the other guy's fault, especially those other guys who zip around in their Saturns and Kias as if there is no snow at all. However, if the police were to be alerted to my left foot driving situation, I would probably be sited for something. So, I gotta drive carefully. Which I always do.

Close the blinds up real tight. With all the snow it makes the room awfuly bright when you are trying to take a nap. And here's a question, how come nobody has the hotel room curtain situation in their own house? Last week in Miami, after the marathon, we slept for a solid four hours in a room that was darker than the inside of a cow. Why? Because the hotel curtains made it so. Isn't that what we want out of curtains? Darkness? The ability to make noon look like midnight? Yet why doesn't anyone have those curtains at home? I want these curtains! Do you call Home Depot for that or do you just call the Radisson? I'm getting on that.

In the meantime, I'm taking a nap while my son does.

A New Invention

I'm heading over to the doctor today for a two week check up (That's right folks, one third of the way there!!!). He told me that if my cast had become too loose, or to put it more appropriately if my calf muscle shrunk too much from so much lack of use, he'd saw it off and throw a new one on there. I think my cast is still good. When it was warm in Miami, my cast was really tight. But now that I am homein the cold I suppose it is sorta loose. We'll see. Hopefully the blizzard we are expecting in the St Louis area today won't hinder my 2pm visit.

Anyhow, I got to thinking about a great new invention. I don't want to give off the impression that I am some sort of dirty freak or anything, but showering is a pain in the arse! It is less difficult than I imagined it would be, but it still requires a lot of will power and patience and I just don't want to do it every day. Trust me, if I need one, I shower. But if I can get by without one, I'll just slap some deoderant on and off I go.

The deoderant is important. Crutching is a work out, specifically of the arms obviously, so sweaty pits are an inevitability. And honestly, this is a good thing because it kind of lubes up where the crutch is, thus reducing and arm pit and rib cage chafing. This is how I survived Miami. But I'm always throwing deoderant on to keep my fresh smelling scent!

Also, the rubber pads of the crutches smell like, well, rubber. But not just rubber, some sort of nasty sweat infused variation of the classic rubber smell. Plus, I got my crutches on loan from Walgreens. Who knows how many other people have used these things or if Walgreens cleans and sanitizes the crutches when they come back in. Ugh!

So we have perpetual sweating. And we have nasty rubber smelling crutches.....

Ladies and gentlemen, I propose to you Degree Antipersperant Crutch Pads!!!!! Am I a genius or what!? The only hurdle we have to clear is getting that white stain all over your shirt, but I'm sure the technology is there. With each step, a new fresh scent is released. I can't believe no one has thought of this yet. Who's with me!?

Introducing... I Gotta Hand It To...

Last week we introduced a new feature to the blog called "In the Crosshairs" where I rip on something that is irking me. Today we introduce a new feature that pretty much serves the opposite purpose. "I Gotta Hand It To" will allow me to heap much deserved praise upon something super duper extraordinary. But Rob, I thought you would be nothing but cranky and vengeful during your time on crutches, how can you possibly find time to heap praise? Good question! "I Gotta Hand It To" will sometimes evolve from me trying to take my mind off of an incredible itch at the bridge of my ankle that is impossible to get to. Or sometimes it will stem from me longing to do something that I can't really do with the cast and crutches. So fear not, my sad story still prevails!!

Today I gotta hand it to... the creators of the video game Rock Star! Have you played this? Have you heard your friends, family, and coworkers talk about this. This game truly does make you want to trade in all of your responsibilities in life and try to become a professional video game player. Or in this case, a rock star!

Rock Star is the hot younger sister of the popular Guitar Hero, which requires you to hit the notes of popular rock songs using a guitar shaped game controller. When I first played Guitar Hero, while it was a fun concept and there was a significant amount of satisfaction involved with nailing a string of notes, it didn't leave me a changed person. I wasn't very eager to run out and buy it.

So when I heard about Rock Star, which allowed for two guitars, one regular, one bass, a drum kit and a microphone, it didn't pique my interest all that much. My pal Long Beach Adam (He actually brought the game with him home on the plane!) brought it over to the house over Christmas and we fired it up.

Playing guitar was the same as Guitar Hero, so that wasn't a big deal.

Playing bass was just like playing guitar, except it is easy. Really easy. You really get a feel for how sweet a life your average rock band bass player has. All he has to do is hold a beat on the bass, change chords maybe three times per song, and he gets to clean up the lead singers sloppy seconds every night! If I had life to do all over again, I would look into being a bass player!

The drums were pretty challenging. Apparently I can't keep a beat worth a lick. I am so white! I was pretty upset by this though because I am the classic air-drummer! I'm the guy you see at a stoplight pretending the dashboard is my drum kit. I'm the guy who when he runs with the iPod on will be running along and out of nowhere I'll spaz out pounding the imaginary tubs! In fact, my ferocious air-drumming may have caused my injury!! But with Rock Band I couldn't figure it out.

Then there was the singing.

I won't pretend to be any kind of singer. I don't sing in the shower. I don't sing along to my favorite tunes in the car. I don't sing lullabies to my son. I don't even sing in church and everyone sings in church. I think some people think they are going to hell if they don't sing in church so they just wail away and sound like a drowning kitten. Not me. I know my limitations. I might hum along or I might tap a toe (To the wrong beat, I guess.) or I might even hold up a lighter. But I ain't singing!

So when we were passing around the Rock Band paraphernalia and I ended up with the microphone, I wanted to turn it down. But after having a few 12oz cans of courage, I thought I'd give The Smashing Pumpkins' 'Cherub Rock' a spin.

I'm not sure what happened to me, but I felt like a rock star! And it felt good! I tore off my shirt! I grabbed my sunglasses! At one point I asked my wife to run and grab her leather pants out of the closet! All of this in my living room. And I'm sure I sounded horrible, but I nailed all the lyrics. And I was ready for the next tune! I put on a whole set list that night!

Stone Temple Pilots' 'Vaseline'. 'Synchronicity II' by The Police. CCR's 'Fortunate Son'. REM's 'Orange Crush'. Man it felt good! And I have no idea where this came from! I didn't know I had it in me.

What I can't understand now is how can a lead singer play a guitar too? Because during the intros to the song and the guitar solos, I just wanted to dance!! I jumped off the couch! If there had been a speaker in my living room, I would have jumped off of it! If the doorbell rang and outside was a group of kids forming a mosh pit, I would have jumped!! I couldn't have done this trying to play the guitar too. Mind you, I don't dance. I gyrate. I flail. I'm not as bad as Elaine Benes or anything, but I get my fair share of snickers when cutting a rug at a wedding or something.

But the game gets into your head. It tells you that you can dance! That you can sing! That you are a rock star!

I haven't been that into video games since Sega Genesis, specifically the NHL Hockey series of games made famous by the movie 'Swingers'. My roommate in college had a PlayStation but there were just too many buttons and I lost interest. Those new systems are damn expensive too! At this point I am fairly certain we will get my son an Atari at an antique shop. Who needs World of Warcraft when you can play Combat!?

But this Rock Band might be something to get. Of course, I'd have to buy a game system, then the game, then the guitars and drums, so the dollar signs are piling up. And on most nights in my house it is just my wife, son and I, so I wouldn't really have a band with me. Though, wouldn't that be something? My wife and I have a couple more kids and then we go out as an ass kicking, Rock Band champion family! We could be a new age Partridge Family!

Plus, right now I'm laid up with the foot thing. I don't want to do any gyrating or flailing with crutches. Or worse, I'd never forgive myself if I reinjured myself rocking out after I got the cast off. So maybe it is better that I don't own the game and only play it once in a while.

But I gotta hand it to the creators of Rock Band. I can see this game completely revolutionizing the karaoke Bar scene. This is karaoke on acid! If you're with a group of friends out on a Saturday night, would you rather sing one by one or storm the stage as a band and rock the house!!?? You watch, Rock Band will be in every bar like Golden Tee in no time at all! If you haven't played this, play it now!

Miami Wrap-Up

You know how in the winter when we get one of those rain storms that drops an inch and a half of rain or something, and Diamond Dave Murray (Local St Louis weatherman.) rolls up his sleeves and tells us that we are lucky that all of this precipitation wasn't snow because the amount of moisture falling from the sky to produce a tenth of an inch of rain would also produce something like four or five inches of snow? Well, I think the same sort of conversion chart can be said about walking versus crutching. Obviously walking ten feet and crutching ten feet are the same; ten feet. But it certainly feels a lot more taxing to do it on crutches. So having said that, my body feels like it crutched far more than 26.2 miles this past weekend in Miami.

And before I go further it must be pointed out that I did turn down chances for help at several points. I didn't take the wheelchair service at the airport. We walked a few blocks on a few occasions when a cab would have probably been smarter. So perhaps I have no room to complain about being sore and tired and about how I wanted to toss my crutches javelin style into Biscayne Bay a number of times. But like I've been saying, I'm trying to remain self sufficient. Besides, I'm arguably in the best shape of my life. I'd rather be crutching around now than this time last year with an extra 30 pounds hanging around my frame and not a tone muscle on my body.

The funny thing was how the fatigue and soreness just gradually took over my body over the course of the weekend. By the time our plane landed last night, I didn't even want to get up out of the seat. I was so drained. I'm not sure I have ever been so happy to be home and in my own bed after a trip. I wonder if my body would have felt any different if I had actually ran the marathon.

Four days in Miami and I almost made it without taking a tumble, but that happened in the Miami airport as we were about to leave. I went to use the restroom. My first sign of trouble was when I read a sign that said "Cuidado. Piso Mojado." The floor was wet. So I took care of my business and then proceeded to wash my hands. Remember in when Bambi went out on the ice and his legs went four different directions? That was me! I put the crutches down and they slid out from under me and down I went. All of this in a crowded bathroom full of men. I was okay. Certainly more embarrassed than anything. And slightly grossed out because in a public men's' room there is equal chance that the floor is wet from being mopped or if it is wet due to piss. So I got up and scrubbed my hands like I was heading in to perform surgery on someone. And I really wanted to get out of my clothes!

It was a great trip though. Lots of good times. Lots of motivation to get better. My teammate Scott sold my sad story to one of the marathon officials after he finished on Sunday and was able to get me a finishers medal. It is really nice. It looks every bit as nice as the medals athletes get at the Olympics! There is a palm tree that spins inside of a circle that spins inside of another circle. The palm tree has a rhinestone in the middle of it. It is a really nice keepsake of what I went through, however I refuse to wear it. I'll display it. I'll show it to everyone. But it is a finishers medal, and I didn't finish. Sure, I worked my ass off only to have the carpet ripped out from under me, and for that I justify having the medal. But I won't wear it.

I'm weird that way. Every so often the Stanley Cup is brought to town for folks to go have their picture taken with it. And inevitably someone will ask me to go with them to see the Cup. And I refuse to go. The Blues haven't won the Cup. And until they do, I won't go near it. Same thing with this medal. When I finally run a marathon, I'll strap it on.

You Can Do It!

I was supposed to run the Miami Marathon yesterday, but to commemorate the day, I decided to have a marathon day. Got up at 4am. Went to the starting area for the festivities and the 6:15am start. Went back to the viewing area near our hotel to watch the field and my teammates file through. Back to the finish line to greet my tired teammates. Grabbed a nap. Took the craziest, two train and one bus route to the Coconut Grove area for a post race party and dinner. Back to the hotel, via cab this time, and in bed by midnight. I'm not sure if I was as tired as the over 10,000 participants in the marathon, but I was beat.

I wrote how I was a little bummed out on Saturday because I was around all of the runners and it sorta sunk in that I wouldn't be doing this when I knew I should be. Well, I was more than little bummed out watching the start of the marathon yesterday morning. Staring at over 10,000 people whooping it up as the start neared and then watching the same 10,000 heads bob up and down across the start line was pretty cool, but knowing I worked so hard to be there and couldn't was pretty upsetting. I thought of all the running I did three and four nights a week that meant my wife had to bathe and put our son to bed and probably clean up the kitchen after dinner for me. I thought of all the team training days on Saturdays and how we all really felt great after completing our weekly run. I thought about how ecstatic I felt the day I rebounded from my first minor injury to run 13 miles and I felt great afterwards. And I will neither confirm nor deny that some of that upsettedness may have leaked out of the corners of my eyes and my nose.

I couldn't get too upset though as I found it way too funny that as the starting gun blasted and everyone took off, they blared Will Smith's 'Miami' over the loud speakers. Ha! That song has been running in my mind since our plane landed on Friday and now I was finally hearing it.

But on the way back to the hotel viewing area, I was fortunate to meet Rachel from New York. Rachel was in the same boat as I was in. She raised money for charity and trained for the marathon. She came to Miami with a team. She was wearing her jersey and her running number. Only she wasn't running because she came up lame with and injury too. It was her right foot, too! Only she had tendon issues. I wasn't dumb enough to think that I was the only person in a field of over 10,000 entrants who got injured training. But it was really reassuring to meet another one of those people. So Rachel from New York who was born and raised in Michigan, thank you for bumping into me yesterday morning. You did more for me yesterday than you willever know.

I must say that the whole marathon day experience is really inspiring. I've become pretty desensitized. Grisly news doesn't shock me anymore and the Mike Bush (Corny, local St Louis news anchor.), 'you gotta love it', heart string pulling stories of blind children playing baseball and what not don't move me either. This facet of me drives my wife nuts. But even I was pretty moved by the experience yesterday.

First off, it seemed like everyone was running for a cause. To qualify for the Olympic team or the Boston Marathon. To raise money and awareness for a cause, like we did. To raise awareness to atrocities going on in the rest of the world, like the guy who ran the whole thing holding a sign over his head that read 'Freedom for Venezuela'. To rebound from some horrible injury or illness, like the bald woman I saw clearly running away from cancer.

Then there were the friends running together. The husbands and wives or boyfriends and girlfriends or partners and partners running side by side or holding hands. I developed a bond with my teammates and I've only been running with them once a week since September, so for these folks who you knew trained together after work in the evening together and in the morning on weekends and went through each other's aches and pains along the way, it had to be incredible for them to reach their goal.

The other thing that struck me was the fact the all walks of life, all shapes, sizes, and ages were running. I think there is a misconception out there that marathons are for 'those running people'. I certainly believed that last May when I was approached to do this. But since then I discovered that I could do this and yesterday I discovered that anyone can do this. Seriously. I can't stress to anyone reading this enough that if you have ever had a sliver of thought in your mind to do something like this but came up with a million reasons why you couldn't do it, I'm going to give you one. You can do it!

And to see the looks on every one's faces afterwards and to hear everyone talk afterwards, if I wasn't hell bent on getting better and running one of these suckers some day before, I certainly am now. As I sit here in the hotel lobby typing away, I can hear music through the lobby's speakers. Right now the beginning chords of U2's 'Where the Streets Have No Name' are building to Bono's first words of the song.

I want to run.

Yes, Bono. I do.

Musings From Miami

I would have updated yesterday, but the Internet access in our hotel room was on the fritz. Here is what is going on in Miami...

I would like to thank American Airlines and the fine folks at the Miami Airport for arriving us at what had to be the furthest gate from the baggage claim possible. In fact, I think our plane landed in Ft Lauderdale and then we walked to Miami to pick up our luggage. And yeah, there were plenty of wheelchair options I could have utilized, but I am trying to remain self sufficient. Besides, I had my son's car seat strapped to my back and my wife had no other limbs to carry anything with. I was needed.

And what an interesting place Miami International Airport is. It can be intimidating. First off it is very crowded! At least it was last night. And second, no one speaks English. Which is fine, especially because the language most commonly being spoken and written on signs is Spanish and I took six years of it in high school and college. But in that type of setting it can be a little disorienting. Plus there was just a ton of commotion going on. Maybe last night was a bad night for the Miami Airport, but I was glad to get in the shuttle bus and on to the hotel.

The airport scene reminded me of that part of 'Romancing the Stone', when Joan Wilder gets off the plane in Bogota and all hell is breaking loose around her. I'm not positive, but I think I saw a man at the airport last night with a live chicken!

I must say, I'm beginning to be a little bummed out that I'm not running the marathon. Now that I am surrounded by runners, it kinda sucks that they all get to go run tomorrow and I don't. Even worse, there was this video being shown at the place we picked up our race packets that was a high speed film of the marathon course in the style of that great movie Koyaanisqatsi. I thought, man, that's where I was supposed to go. After crutching all over South Beach today I thought to myself that maybe I could crutch half a marathon with the folks who walk. Then with a little rest, the fatigue and soreness of all the crutching I did this afternoon settled in and squashed any of those thoughts.

However, another part of me is quite relieved to not be running tomorrow. I think I'd be a nervous wreck right now if I was ten hours away from start time like everyone else is right now. So in a lot of ways I have been able to take this four day weekend in Miami with my family as a vacation, which was sorely needed for us. Besides, I still picked up all of my race goodies. Five years from now when I am jogging with my 2008 Miami Marathon shirt on, it'll look like I ran to to everyone else!

Florida is the home of monorails. At least to me it is. They may be other places, but I only seem to run into them in Florida. It must have been Disney World and their monorails that started the trend. But I have flown into both Tampa's and Orlando's airports before, and they both have monorails. I discovered yesterday that Miami's airport has a monorail. And downtown Miami has a monorail called the MetroMover.

This MetroMover is great because there is a station right outside our hotel and it takes us right where we need to be for the race. And plenty of other places too. And get this; it's free! I know!! So if you ever become homeless, find your way to Miami. Free transportation!! Good luck getting on the right train though. They aren't marked very well and getting on the wrong one means heading to a whole other part of town. I guess you get what you pay for.

I should be thinking about Crockett and Tubbs while being down here, or Will Smith, or the Golden Girls, but all I can think about is Zach and AC Slater and the gang from Bayside High on Saved by the Bell. But Rob, didn't Saved by the Bell take place in some fictional Bayside in California? Beats me. All I know is that everything down here seems to be Bayside.

Bayside Marketplace. Bayside Boulevard. Bayside Auditorium. Bayside Grill. Bayside Expressway. La Isla de Bayside. Bayside Strip Club. Bayside Bail Bonds. So naturally there has to be a Bayside High School around here somewhere, right?

Remember how I said the cast was comfortable? Remember how I said it was warm? Yeah, well that's all fine and good when it is 12 degrees out like it was last week in St Louis. 75, sunny, and humid ain't good cast weather. It gets all sweaty down there and when you are hot your body expands, so it was really tight. It pretty much sucked. Note to self, never end up in a cast in the dead of summer!

However, it made my day as we were walking back to the hotel and some random dude gave me a compliment. I'm crutchin' my ass off as I see the hotel, the light at the end of the tunnel! So I'm chugging along and going the opposite way on the sidewalk is this classic Miami dude. Tan, expensive shades, the whole Abercrombie look. We pass and he says to me "You're doing great, bro!" Seriously, that made my day!

This gets me thinking though. Should I remove 'dude' from my vernacular and replace it with 'bro'? Dude seems so yesterday, right? And I say it a lot! Too much. And now we have that whole Bud Light Dude Guy now that people seem to be bugged with. Maybe I need to work in some bro to what I'm saying.

I should probably head to bed now. I've got to be up in six hours for our team breakfast and as I sit here in the hotel lobby, some bellhop just walked by with a giant cart full of fruit for someones breakfast, maybe ours! That's my cue. Catch you later, bro.

My Billboard

So, as an incentive to get people to donate to the SSM Rehab Hospital in my name for this marathon, I mentioned that all donors would be mentioned on my running shirt. I actually asked people to come up with a funny saying or an inspirational quote or to dedicate my running to a loved one or something.

This was a part of the process that I really looked forward to. The big office supply stores sell those iron on transfers. So my plan was to print out a list of donors and whatever they asked to put on my shirt and then iron them on. Well, I hit a few snags with that. To begin with, in extremely fine print on the instruction sheet that accompanies the iron on transfers, it says you should do this with free floating text. Apparently they only work when using images or drawings, not just plain words. It also says that it should only be used on a 100% cotton shirt and my marathon team shirt is made of some space age material that is far from cotton.

So I inquired with a couple of screen printing companies to see how much they would charge for such a job and a couple of places I found wanted 70 cents a letter! Sheesh, at that rate this would be a $500 job!!

Then of course I won't actually be wearing the shirt to run the marathon. Yes, I'm still going to Miami. Yes, I'm still going to be a part of the marathon festivities. Yes, I told all of my donors they would end up on my shirt. But all of these snags added up and I kinda wanted to forget about the whole idea.

Then it dawned on me as I stared at the giant, plain white billboard affixed to my right leg. How fitting would it be, after what this whole thing has turned into for me, to write all of the names of my donors on my cast? So there you go!

My wife began the process last night of scribbling down all of these names. We had a pack of multi-colored Sharpies, so my cast right now looks a little bit like a bowl of Fruit Loops, only if Fruit Loops were like Alpha Bits. I really do think this is a fitting way to honor those who forked over cash in my name. Once we get all of the names on it, I'll post a picture.

And remember!! If you want your name on my cast, there is still time!! Click on 'Donate for Rob' to the right to donate to the SSM Rehab Hospital. Be sure to check the box that says it is a marathon team donation and that you are supporting 'Rob G.' C'mon, it's January. It's cold. No football this week. No new TV shows going on. Having your name on my cast could really brighten your January '08!!

Anyhow, that's all I got today. Busy day at work with meetings and then of course I need to get packed to go to Miami tomorrow.

Six Days In and I Have An Enemy

I'm not sure if you were like me when you were a kid, but when I was a youngling I always felt jealous of classmates who had crutches. Not necessarily jealous of the broken leg or ankle or foot and the pain they must have gone through to necessitate the crutches, just the crutches. I don't think I was alone. It seemed like there was a line near the kid with crutches at recess so everyone could take a spin on them. I remember one time the bell rang to go back inside and whoever had the crutches crutched back inside with them, leaving the kid with the broken bone sitting on the bench outside all by himself looking like Flick (Wow! Two 'A Christmas Story' references in this blog already and I'm not even a week in yet!).

But whatever the reason, I'd always get excited when some kid would hobble into school on crutches. Even a few years ago when my wife broke her ankle, I'd always tool around on her crutches like I did when I was a kid. Yee ha!! And now that I am six days into my situation, one thought keeps running through my mind.

What the hell was I thinking?

One thing is for certain so far. I hate the crutches. They are a major pain in the arse! As well as my arm pits. They have to be the most awkward pieces of crap ever constructed. Wherever you place them, they slide down the wall, counter top, desk, chair, what have you and crash onto the floor usually taking papers, drinks, jackets, and anything in their path with them. You can't move five feet without taking them with you. You should have seen me try to retrieve the mail last night while trying to manipulate the crutches at the same time. You should have seen me try to take two pieces of pizza out of the pizza box and into a Ziploc bag this morning. It took me twenty minutes!! All because of these stupid crutches.

When I found out a week ago that I required all of this, my knee jerk reaction was to assume that the cast would put the biggest crimp in my lifestyle. Oh no. Quite honestly, and I hesitate to say this because it will inevitably come back to bite me in the arse, the cast is quite comfortable. Seriously. It is warm, which is nice this time of year (Except for my toes. Thems is cold!). Having it gives me a free pass to lounge around on the couch whenever I get a chance. Itching has been at a minimum, and usually a wiggle of the foot or a flex of the calf muscle does the trick. The cast hasn't been a problem.

But these God forsaken crutches suck! When I woke up this morning, rolled over and looked at my crutches, I felt like how Jerry must have felt each time he saw Newman.

(Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down, thirty-seven to go. Six days down...)

Introducing... In The Crosshairs

Alright boys and girls, it's time for a rant. I said from the outset that I would use this blog as a chance to get some things off my chest, and since I am pretty edgy this morning from having to uncomfortably shave and wash my hair on one leg in the kitchen sink, let's fire our first shot, shall we.

I mentioned in yesterday's training story blog that I lost thirty pounds training for this marathon. Well, who knows how high that number could have been if I would have let go of one of my passions, mocha based blended frozen coffee drinks. Most popularly known as Mocha Frappucinos at Starbucks, these caffeine electrified beverages are the straws that stir my drink! For all I know they are as healthy for you as a bottle of water as I have never bothered to investigate the fat content of these drinks, but I am quite certain they are fattening. But hey, I was running!

Now I would get my fix at Starbucks on occasion, especially when I needed to hit a drive thru. It also became easier to hit the 'Bucks, as Michael Scott would say, when they opened one up RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM WHERE I WORK!!!! But usually, I achieved my mocha-gasm at the St Louis Bread Company, or for you folks who live outside the St Louis area, Panera Bread. Why BreadCo? Because I like to have a moderately overprice bagel with my coffee, not an outrageously overpriced, stale muffin. Plus BreadCo has a frequent coffee buyers card, buy eight, get one free!

Of course, now I am upset because I cannot really get my mocha groove on unless I drink it at the counter when they hand it to me. Having to commit my hands to the crutches limits what I can carry with me and beverages aren't transportable. I could hit the drive thru at the 'Bucks, but then I would need to risk a brain freeze downing the drink all at once in my car before exiting to go into work. Do you people see what kind of stress I am living under here, folks!!??

But the mocha based blended frozen coffee drink makers are in my crosshairs today because of how they are making my drinks. Little things bother me. I hate it when my wallet goes sideways in my pocket. I hate it when someone puts in a fresh roll of toilet paper or paper towels and it rolls under and not over. I hate it when the bagger at the grocery store puts the ice cream in the same bag as the bread. AND FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, I HATE IT WHEN I AM HAPPILY SIPPING MY FAVORITE MORNING BEVERAGE AND I COME ACROSS A CHUNK OF UNBLENDED ICE!!!!!!!

I'm not sure why this bothers me so much, but man, it really does. If I am drinking a Starbucks' Frapuccino, with their skinny straws, the ice chunks clog up the straw thus not allowing me to enjoy my purchase. If I am drinking an IC Mocha from BreadCo, with their thick straws, I nearly choke on the chunk of ice. Either way, I can't win. (Though I must say, I am a big fan of the thick straw. More drink per suck, that's my motto! Starbucks should really look into a thicker straw. However, you BreadCo wannabe baristas, stop giving me the hot pink straw! It is feminine enough that I am walking around town with a bubble lidded drink with whip cream and chocolate sauce oozing on top, the last thing I need to top it off is a hot pink straw! You rang me out, you saw that I, a man, ordered it. Why in the world would you elect to give me a hot pink straw!? There are blue and green straws too. give me one of those. STOP GIVING ME THE HOT PINK STRAWS I TELL YOU!!!!)

Thankfully, I am here to offer up an easy solution to this icy problem. So all you baristas and wannabe baristas, listen up. Next time someone orders one of these drinks, do the following. Prepare the drink. Pour prepared contents into the blender. Turn the blender on. Let it blend. Blending is good. Blending is our friend. And just when you are ready to turn the blender off, let it blend another thirty seconds or so. Trust me. Don't worry about the line of people waiting. They are all paying $4 for coffee, they have bigger problems than waiting an extra thirty seconds for it. Let it blend, people. Let it blend. It's just that simple. No need to rush.

Better yet, make the drinks with ice cream instead of ice. Oh God! I'm weak in the knees just thinking about that!

And since I'm venting on the mocha based blended frozen coffee drink makers, let me fire one more shot at them. We're in the winter months. Despite what Al Gore tells you, it is cold outside. That doesn't give you the right to sarcastically question what I am ordering. Last week I ordered some of this frozen goodness and the girl says, "It's like 2 degrees outside. Are you sure you want that?" DON'T QUESTION WHAT I AM ORDERING! I KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT I AM GETTING MYSELF INTO!! NOW GET ME MY DRINK AND DON'T GIVE ME A HOT PINK STRAW!!!!!

So to all the mocha based frozen blended coffee drink makers, I give you.....

Three crutches upside your head!

The Training Story

I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain why I was slated to run my first marathon in Miami of all places. I mean, St Louis has a marathon. Hell, any town with more than a population of 5,000 has a marathon these days. Why Miami?

It all started last May when I attended a dinner held by the SSM Rehab Hospital's Foundation through my job. SSM Rehab specializes in rehabbing patients who are coming off of traumatic medical emergencies, like injuries sustained in a car accident or a stroke. They have giant room with all sorts of equipment designed to reacclimate patients to everyday life before they are sent home. In this room, which is on the sixth floor of a building, mind you, there is a car! A real car patients can practice getting in and out of and be sure to manipulate the controls properly. There are also mock up apartments with stairs, and for some patients they cannot be sent home until they successfully live in this mock up apartment for a few days, cooking, showering, doing laundry, etc. It's pretty neat stuff and until yourself or a loved one is involved with one of these life changing medical emergencies, it's something you don't really think of. Come to think of it, it probably would have done myself some good to spend some time over there last week after I got the cast put on before I went home...

Anyhow I was at one of the hospital's foundation dinners and I just had good conversation all night long. And before I left they asked if I would be interested in joining their foundation board. I thought about it for a bit. On one hand it was hard for me to think of myself on the board of anything. With a wife, a son, and various pets, the argument could be made that I wasn't even on the board of my own household. On the other hand it would probably be a good next step as a professional, and hell, as an adult.

So I joined the board and we started talking about fund raising and how their next fund raiser was this marathon team. They would recruit runners, beginners and avid marathoners, to train for a marathon and raise money for the foundation simultaneously. Because some, if not most, of the team members would be beginner marathoners, the Miami Marathon was chosen because it is nearly a 100% flat course. Other than the bridge that takes you to South Beach and back, there aren't any hills in Miami. They asked me if I would be interested in running this marathon.

My first reaction was to laugh. I wasn't running any marathon. Please! About four years ago I woke up one morning and just decided it was time to get back in shape. I hadn't done much in the way of athletics since my baseball career ended in college years ago and it was time to tone up my muscles. So I headed over to Creve Coeur Park, a pretty good park to take in a jog, and I was going to start running on a regular basis! I parked the car, got all stretched out, hit the path and started running. For those of you that don't know Creve Coeur Park, it has a pretty sizable lake and this path follows along the lake's shoreline for a distance. And the wind is always whipping off that lake! It could be 75 degrees with no breeze at all anywhere else in town and on that lake the wind is blowing across it at 25 mile per hour and it feels like it is 40 degrees! So I started running, into this gale force wind, and I probably made it 50 feet before stopping. I remember saying to hell with this!, getting back into my car, and going home. So when I was asked if I wanted to run a marathon, this memory flashed in my mind.

I just sorta told them that I might have some friends interested in doing something like this, but I wasn't the guy they were looking for. But for some stupid reason I kept thinking about running this marathon. What if I could do it? How awesome would a trip to Miami in January be? It wouldn't be that difficult to raise the money. Maybe I could do this. I couldn't shake any of these thoughts. And with the full expectation that I wouldn't be able to make it to the two mile mark, I decided to give it a shot.

There is a work out room with a treadmill where I work, so it was real easy to get started. I wasn't even worried about distance to begin with, I was more worried with endurance. I started by running fifteen minutes, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, on week one. Week two I bumped it up to twenty minutes. Week three, twenty five. And so on and so forth. I never quit. Just like Forrest Gump, I just kept running. I kept expecting myself to fold up like a tent and I never did. By August I was running for an hour and 45 minutes, which just blew my mind. Sure, other people did this all the time, but not me!

Then in September the team training started with the rest of the folks going to Miami with me. There was a text book handed out that details what you should do day by day leading up to the marathon (Which I admit to not reading enough of...). We began our weekly long workouts and I was on pace, baby! I wasn't looking to break any records or anything, my goal was to stay on my feet, hopefully run the whole thing, but be sure to run across the finish line. I wasn't so worried about my time, but I kinda had in the back of my mind finishing around four and a half hours.

Then the wheels slowly started to come off. The Monday before Thanksgiving I ran two laps around Forest Park before heading to work. Roughly 11.5 miles, depending on who you talk to. I ran, felt great, didn't step on a rock or a stick or a curb funny. I finished running and walked it off about a mile. I got in the car and proceeded to work, not feeling any pain or anything. I went to get out of the car at work and could barely walk on my right foot. There was a really sharp pain shooting through the arch of my foot. I hobbled into work, limped my way through a shower, went to my desk and that is where I stayed all day. I left in the evening and the pain was marginally better, but still pretty bad.

The next day was okay, the next day a little better. I started to pass the pain off as just part of the marathon training process. In fact, after Thanksgiving dinner I went out and ran four miles. It seemed like once I got running the pain went away, however when I stopped the pain came back strong. But again, it was sort of a "no pain, no gain", mentality. I ran again a couple days later and for the next couple of weeks I ran when the pain let me. It was weird pain too. Like I said, it started in the arch of my foot. Then it moved to the top of my foot. Then it moved to my ankle. How weird was that? By mid December I was starting to get fed up with the pain.

I called my doctor who referred me to a couple of orthopedists. But with the holidays approaching, no one could see me until mid January at the earliest. I couldn't sit out until then! So I decided to shut everything down and rest for a week. I didn't want to get off the training schedule, but I was running out of options. And it worked! The pain was gone! Not just the 'all the time' pain, but the 'after I went running' pain too! So I got back on the horse and went full speed ahead. On December 22nd, I reached my peak. I ran 13 miles and then walked another three, this only five days after starting to run again. I felt fantastic. I was more or less right back on track with the training schedule. Over that week I took off, I felt miserable. All the training for nothing. I was right about myself back in May, I couldn't do this. Then all of a sudden I was back and I could do this! What a great little Christmas gift to myself.

If you've read the rest of my blog, you know the rest. I went running on New Year's Eve. Developed a horrible, horrible, horrible pain in my right foot again. Tried to rest it off again. This time it wasn't having it. Finally with the help of my marathon teammate Shelby who got me into see an orthopedist she sees, I saw a doctor. An MRI and a leg cast later and here I am. Stress fracture of the navicular. The doctor suggests that this injury did begin with my episode in November and the fact that a week of rest made the pain go away for a few weeks give you an idea of how tricky treating this particular broken bone can be.

The funny thing is that I'm not upset over missing the marathon. I was really upset at the thought of missing it in December, but now I'm okay with it. I can't explain it. The way I look at it is that I raised money for the hospital, I lost thirty pounds, and I really learned a lot about myself. I learned that My body will do things that I had no idea it could do. I learned that my body will keep going sometimes when I really want to stop. And I learned that I can do this. So I'm really looking forward to healing up and tackling some other marathon in the future.

As for the Miami Marathon, my little injury occurred after I had paid for us to go to Miami. So even though I'm on crutches, my wife, my son and I are headed to Miami on Friday. It'll be a fun trip. We'll be with the marathon team and I think I am going to try to go through the motions as if I am running. I'm going to pick up my race packet of goodies! I'm going to the carbo-load dinner the night before. I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn to see the beginning of the race at 6:15am. My buddy Dan at work tells me that I should just crutch my butt on down to the starting corral and start anyway. We'll see about that. But the thought has crossed my mind to watch the beginning of the race and then head back to the hotel and ride the exercise bike (Yes, I can ride the bike with the cast.) for three or four hours to simulate running the marathon before heading back to watch everyone finish. We'll see about that too. Chances are I am going to try to relax and enjoy myself in Florida.

One last thing. In the event you are interested in donating to the SSM Rehab Hospital's Foundation, click the link to the right marked "Donate for Rob". Most of the folks who are reading this blog are friends of mine who have already donated (Thank you very much!!), but if you were cruising the web and came across my blog and somehow were inspired to donate, by all means. Be sure to click on "marathon donation" and put 'Rob G.' as the person you are sponsoring. And if you are reading this thinking, "Look at this a-hole. He's just looking to up his donation amount so he looks better! Jerk!" then make a donation and don't put my name down. It doesn't matter to me. The money, be it $5 or $5,000 goes to a fantastic cause.