I mentioned in my last post that my running is a bit off. One reason I'm having a hard time getting back into the groove is that I know it's not going to make much difference at this point, anyway. I'm scheduled for a little minor surgery over the holidays, which will keep me off the roads for a minimum of 2-3 weeks. So getting somewhat back in shape now, while perhaps good for my mood, feels somewhat counterproductive.
The surgery is to remove a gross-looking benign cyst on the back of my left ankle. It used to be the size of a pea, but now it's a good-sized marble. For years, I didn't care that I had it, because it doesn't hurt, and I figured it's vain to pay to have something cut off that's covered by a sock 90% of the time. It's not like it was in the middle of my forehead or something. But as it's gotten bigger and more noticeable, it's become more irritating.
My athletes call it "Arthur." For any Beatles fans out there, you may get the inside joke. Once a reporter asked Ringo Starr, "What do you call that haircut?" Ringo fired back, "I call it Arthur." A kid happened to notice my big discolored ankle-lump a while back and said (as freshmen are wont to do), "Ewwwww. What is THAT thing?" Without thinking, I said, "I call it Arthur." And Arthur it has been ever since. But hopefully by the new year, I'll call it gone. And get back on the roads, just a little bit lighter.