risky counters

This is how the weekend was supposed to go down:

An Atlanta reunion with Katie G., Emily and Katie Z.

But instead, this is how it went down:

Broken foot. Womp womp. (I meant it literally when I said "went down.")

I broke it Thursday night, which led to a slightly less exciting weekend than we had planned. I jumped off of our kitchen counter and managed to land just wrong enough to break my 5th metatarsal. The biggest issue, at this point, is that the story is pretty lame. I need to make something up about surfing, or skiing or skydiving - or something that makes it sound thrilling.

I thought six weeks of just biking and swimming was hard, so now I'm in for a real challenge of doing absolutely nothing for six to eight weeks. It's going to be mentally trying, but I'm going to try to follow the rules this time around. No point in delaying the healing, here.

And, luckily, Katie and Emily still came to my rescue and took me out of the house for a few hours of Highland loving Saturday afternoon.

I hope your weekend was slightly less risky, and stuck to your plan more than mine did! Be careful out there, my friends!