Breakaway

Think back to elementary school. If you fell down on the playground and skinned your knee, what was the first thing you had to do? Show it off, right? You had to make sure everyone else in the class saw your blood and broken skin. Then you would go to the teacher and get a fancy bandaid because bandaids were the coolest accessory next to slap bracelets. But bandaids were generally useless because you would peel it off to continue to show your war wound to anyone who may have missed it the first time around. And sometimes (you know you did it too) you would peel a scab just so it would bleed and you could get another bandaid to show off (bandaids with blood soaking through were even cooler than regular bandaids). Well, apparently I am the equivalent of an elementary school student, except I no longer pick scabs just so they will bleed (however I will stick a needle in a blister so I can watch the liquid ooze out), but I do still like to show off my war wounds and tell the stories about how I got them.

Last night Abby and I went for a run around the neighborhood. It was nice outside, and I was trying to make use of the daylight savings time that curses me every morning. (Apparently I turned my alarm off in my sleep again this morning and when I looked at the clock, it read 6:56 and I yelled, "Crap! Not again!") We were nearing the end of the run and I was just trying to make it back to my apartment complex without stopping to walk. My iPod was blaring in my ears, so I couldn't hear much of what was going on behind me. All of the sudden this dog comes running out of nowhere up to Abby who darts in front of me and over to the other side because she was so taken off guard. I feel the handle of the dog's retractable leash hit my foot from behind with no owner holding it. The dog (who was slightly bigger than Abby but no Caroline by any means) follows Abby around to the other side of me and all the way around me again before I could stop her. For those of you with a dog and a retractable leash, you know that you don't want to grab the cord while the dog is moving because those things will slice a finger off. So here I am, trying to get this dog unwrapped from my legs without falling down, when the owner finally comes out from behind the house saying something about how she was sorry and she must not have been holding on to the leash tight enough and blah blah blah. However, she did not say a thing about my foot that was nearly sliced off at the ankle by the deadly cord of the retractable leash. It burned/sliced my skin before I could do anything about it. I told the woman that it was cool, because Lord knows, Abby has pulled her leash out of my hands many times to chase a squirrel or a rabbit (or even a suspicious leaf every now an then). I went on my way, trying not to think about the burning sensation on my ankle. As soon as I got home, I'm all, "Dude, I have to take a picture of this and blog about it." So without further ado, I present my wound (and hideously dry legs).



I don't think this picture really does the wound justice because everyone that I show it to today at work (and you know I have to show it to everyone) gasps and says, "Oh my gosh! What happened?!" Actually, I think it may look worse today. The affected area is raised a bit and it still burns like crazy, but my legs aren't nearly as dry as they were last night.