Before my great-grandmother got kicked out of her nursing home for accusing nearly every member of the staff of stealing her Tylox and Valium, she earned the nickname Walkie Talkie. Her fellow residents gave her that moniker because she would walk around the nursing home with both her mouth and the wheels on her walker going 90 to nothing. The staff had to eventually put tennis balls over the walker's wheels to slow her down. If you would have asked my great-grandmother about the tennis balls, she would have probably told you that the staff put them there so she would have a harder time catching them stealing her drugs. However, the truth of the matter is they were probably tired of having the crazy, loud redhead running over their feet.I don't know where that walker is now. Knowing my grandmother's pack-rat propensities, it's probably still sitting in her living room with a pile of dirty clothes hanging on it. Given the way my knee has felt since I woke up Tuesday morning, I could sure use that walker. I don't know what I managed to do to myself in my sleep, but, considering the fact that it still hurts to bend my knee three days later, it must have been something rather extraordinary.
I'm starting to wonder if I was sleep-exercising. My freshman year roommate Narcoleptic Nancy--I swear the girl slept 23 out of 24 hours a day--told me once that she woke up one night to see me doing leg lifts in my sleep. I don't think that I did leg lifts this time because my thighs are neither sore nor toner. The only thing that hurts is my knee. So if it wasn't leg lifts, what was it? Nocturnal jumping jacks? Squats? A roundhouse kick? Maybe I dreamed that I was the international spy, La Femme Staci, and the fate of the free world and my Dolce & Gabanna dress depended on me kicking the crap out of some bad guy. That could have happened, right?
I'm sure the more reasonable explanation is that I overdid it on the treadmill Monday night or stepped wrong. I have high arches that often cause my feet to turn outwards when walking, especially my right foot. I bought tennis shoes that have an arch cradle that is supposed to stop the pronating, but so far they don't seem to be living up to the hype. They help some but obviously not enough, or else I wouldn't currently smell like a walking (okay, hobbling), talking, Ben-Gay commercial.
I hope that's the actual explanation as well. Otherwise, I'm going to have to put up a kiddie gate in my room and stop listening to the La Femme Nikita soundtrack on my iPod before I go to sleep.
