About six months ago, I bent back the nail on my left big toe playing basketball. It was shockingly painful. The colors it has turned and fluids it has expelled since are indescribable. Today, though, the story took a turn I hadn't anticipated.
An article I read soon after the injury mentioned that the dead portion of the nail would fall off, leaving the nail bed of my toe exposed. This never happened. Instead, the nail raised up a little, other things happened (let's just leave it at that), but it was always covered. I felt lucky. I was wrong. As I trimmed the nail today, the reality set in. I had two nails. Two toe nails on one toe. And unfortunately there's no easy way to say this: the dead one just peeled off, leaving mostly good nail underneath with a little bit of exposed bed. The event left me in real, actual shock. I've grown fond of Frankentoe over this last half year. He's a badge of honor, and I'll miss him in, say, another six months when everything is completely normal again.
I started this blog hoping to motivate myself and perhaps stoke a creative fire that once burned within me. Instead, my writing and working out has been pretty much nonexistent. Luckily, my new job has brought with it many opportunities to fix the working out issue. I'm taking swim lessons and also participating in a kinesiology class, which basically amounts to having a student personal trainer for two months. My trainer is a great young guy, and he's helped push me at each of our sessions. Here's to keeping it up.
That's what she said.