I threw caution and my physical therapist's expert, $35 per-visit-copay advice to the wind yesterday. I ran.
It was terrific. Though the run was only 5 miles and on a treadmill, it managed to eradicate all of the day's shittiness (and, trust me, it was an EXTREMELY shitty day). I stretched like a maniac before the run and I stretched like a maniac after the run. The endorphins were still pumping through my system today, which made for sheer loveliness and inspired me to run another 5.5 miles after work. Endorphins are my friends.
Thank God the hip doesn't hurt but, for some reason, my right pointer finger is freakin' killing me. Wonder if it'll require therapy.
In other news, I dreamt last night that I was making out with Mekhi Pfeiffer. Bizarre? Yes. I've never found Mekhi Pfeiffer attractive and, really, I have absolutely no reason to be dreaming of him, let alone making out with him in my dream. How random is that, right? Not very, if you consider that, years ago, I dreamt of making out with another actor who played a doctor on ER, an actor who I didn't find attractive: Anthony Edwards. In that dream, Anthony Edwards was wearing a red and black flannel shirt--it looked like a farmer's shirt--and we were kissing in a red pickup truck.
Any dream interpreters out there?