After Brooke and I did an amazingly hard leg workout (elliptical machine, donkey kicks, lunges, sideways lunges, sneaky lunges, leg lifts, leg lifts with toes pointed down, squats, planks, declined abs, etc.) with our trainer we thought it might be fun to go walk a few miles at the Chickamauga Battlefield.
That was a mistake.
I fell within 25-feet of the car. My ankle just gave right out on me. Just gave out. I dropped like a sack of potatoes. My ankle was fine but I scraped my knee and below my knee pretty bad. Actually it's not really not bad at all, but I think it'll make me sound tough to say that I have a horrible road rash. Doesn't that make me sound all athletic and tough?
No?
Okay then.
We still walked for I don't know how many miles. Brooke started whining and saying things like, "Mom, I can't feel my legs below my knees anymore," and "Oh my gosh, where's the car? We're in the Blair Witch Battlefield, we will never get out!" All kinds of fun.
We pulled through and boy am I proud of us. Yay!
Night!
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