So it turns out that the worst consequence of being punted down the street by Andre the Giant (yes, I know he’s dead and that this minor detail is the only thing that keeps this story from being believable, BUT you’ve got to admit it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than saying “I fell while I  was running…”) is not the general physical malaise or even the lacerations on my right knee and palm, but the swelling of my left ankle.  It looks like there is an egg, smaller than a hen’s but larger than a robin’s, protruding from my outer ankle bone.  Reluctantly, I canceled my training appointment with Heather and spent the day elevating, icing, and pounding ibuprofen.  In the midst of tapering, I’m trying my hardest to listen to my body and calm down my mind regarding this minor set back.  But if I can’t run tomorrow, I’m gonna be pissed.