Shortest Run Ever...

I went for a run Thursday after work like normal and about 7 minutes in, I stepped on what best can be described as a loose metal power cover on the side of the road. It flipped up and hit me in the shin causing me to fall forward onto gravel. In retrospect the cover was marked with some white and blue warning tape but I like my usual running self was thinking of other things and not paying any attention. As I fell I starting yelling "F@ck" which attracted the attention of one of the "Johns" that frequent the park, or at least someone who very suspiciously behaving like one. He kept asking me if I was 'OK' in Spanish and then asked me if I understood Spanish. I assured him I was fine and started heading home, thinking I had only bruised my shin and my pride.

After walking about three quarters of the way home limping when it occurred to me that I should start icing my shin and what better way to start but by using the cold air that was surrounding me. Upon thinking this I lifted up my selectively tight running pants and notice something I had not expected, blood. "Awesome blood I'm going to have to clean it out when I get back to the apartment." I also noticed it was bleeding so I figured it was better to put the leg of my pants back.

When I got to the apartment I took a pretty long look at my leg and and started to clean it out with some paper towels and tissues. The scary thing was that it didn't stop bleeding which I didn't think was a good thing. I hesitated a little knocking on the door of my landlord because I knew his girlfriend Luz, was around and she knows this neighborhood better than I do. When I showed her my problem she got totally freaked out by the blood, but she then offered to take me over to the local neighborhood clinic after I wrapped it up a little. On the way over the public clinic we had a conversation about the English words she knows which isn't that many.

We arrived at the local "centro de salud" where they told me that they couldn't take my private insurance card Mapfre. They thought I wanted a regular check up despite me using the word "sangre" meaning blood numerous times and Luz, who was helping me saying exactly the same thing. Thankfully I sat down in the large waiting room where they could see me to check it and adjust the bandana I was using for a bandage. I hadn't planned on being strategic but one of the administration women saw the blood. They then showed me into of the clinic area in what only ended up being a cleaning, when I needed stitches. After cleaning it out they told me I needed to go someplace else aka an actual hospital to get stitches. They were worried that I had gotten something lodged in the wound they could not see so they suggested I go to the closest private hospital I could find. I knew one from when a friend of mine was hospitalized and so looked into heading there.

I first went home to get a better jacket since I was wearing my running gear, and my metro pass. I then started walking toward the metro, looking for a cab. I got a very bald and friendly cabbie who was nice enough to give me some pointers about how describe my problem to the doctors while on the ride to the hospital. He drove me right into where the Urgent patients with ambulances are dropped and I got right into line after giving my details to the insurance lady. I waited for about 40 minutes where the bandages I had gotten at the clinic kept every ship shape.

After the wait, I got ushered into a "consulting room" by a nice doctor who turned out to be Venezuelan who spoke great English. She asked me what happened, looked at my continually bleeding wound and told what we were going to do. She told me, while doing so, that she was going to clean it out and then I was going to get an X-ray just to make sure there wasn't any metal lodged in my leg. After we'd figured that out, she was going to stitch up the hole I had in my leg. But before we also really started doing anything I spotted a red haired Spaniard who Maria, my doctor, was consulting with. It turns out that she was an intern, but as far as I could tell did a pretty good job. She had the help of one the nurses who kept the whole thing rather clean and orderly. They gave me some localized anesthetic which I first thought unnecessary but I changed my mind later; even with the anesthesia the stitches hurt. She also told I would need to take an antibiotic for the period of 8 days. They gave me a tetanus booster and I was up and out of there after a conversation about Venezuela.

I grabbed the closest metro by way of getting the pharmaceuticals she had prescribed me. I limped home after getting off the metro, really wishing I had one of those power chairs all the way to my apartment due to my now limping gate. Dinner was a pizza shared with Luz who had helped me and I've been sitting around hopping my leg gets better as fast as possible.

"Maria" the doctor told me that I wasn't supposed to walk much for 48 hours and I'm not to run for 15 days because I bruised both the muscles and the main leg bone my tibia. She told me that I could start running again when I wanted, but made it clear that if she were me, she would wait the 15 days. Provided it starts to heal we'll see how long I last going without running

Since Thursday I've been sleeping a lot and generally trying to walk as little as possible. I haven't been entirely perfect about not walking too much because honestly, I need to eat. Walking combined with using the Metro de Madrid is how I live around here, so it's hard to not walk anywhere during the day. After get back from the hospital on Thursday night I didn't really go anywhere for about 36 hrs which I think was a help. I've also been trying to ice it and keep my leg raised just as the doctor ordered. With the exception of bad movies a fairly simple book I have been pretty bored around here. I think I'm going to try to go to church tomorrow but on time rather than early like I have in the past seeing how I'm not technically supposed to be walking...

Finishing School and Summer Camp

Where do I begin? It's been loads of months since the last time that I wrote absolutely anything for my blog. I wish I could chalk it up to not having been writing anything, but that is not the case at all. In fact I spent the last couple of months writing a lot, mostly about my travels and out of boredom when I would get caught waiting on something, not unlike now (I'm currently waiting on my ride to the airport). I was for most of this past academic year at a school by the name of Principe Don Felipe which is named after the present Crown Prince of Spain. It's a nice school and I genuinely enjoyed my time there. I wasn't sure whether I would be returning to Spain, so I didn't sign back up for the program again and let the March deadline to do so go past me. Around April, I started to have the desire to remain in Spain for another school year. Both due to the fact it was far too late to return to Don Felipe and a host of personal reasons I was glad to be not returning to that particular school. I hope, and don't think, I burned any bridges leaving. The school was nice enough to provide me with a group of parting gifts that ended up being very useful this past summer. A t-shirt that says "La Roja" for the Spanish national team and a guide to the Camino de Santiago.

After about week off I started an English speaking summer camp that ended up being in Talvara de la Reina in Castilla La mancha. About 7 counselors and 2 support staff were responsible for group of about 80 kids. At times it was a really good time, I genuinely enjoyed trying to teach kids who were 13-15yrs of age for the 2 weeks I was with them. The problems mostly stemmed from the exceedingly poor management of camp by the umbrella corporation Pueblo Ingles which is affiliated with the larger company of Vaughan Systems. We started out short staffed because they couldn't get people enough people to work the first two weeks of July which is what we were doing. San Fermin, the fiesta in Pamplona that is so famous for the running of the bulls happens in the early part of July. The World Cup was playing too and I was apprehensive about working during it on the off chance that Spain would come out the victors.



Despite one the rules of the camp being that we were not going to watch a lot of TV, we made an exception to spend time watching the games. The first couple of games with Spain playing this or that other team, a lot the kids didn't really care. They was a large portion of them not anywhere near the room that had the large TV. But when the final Championship game came around everyone was in the room cheering when they could but mostly holding their breath. Spain was playing Netherlands and it wasn't the best game of football/soccer I've ever seen. The Dutch played very dirty and the amount of yellow cards that were handed out in the first half allow was inexcusable. After 90 minutes, the passing of stopage time, and then two 15 minute extra periods, Iniesta a player for Barca scored the only goal for Spain of the match. The kids that we had been teaching, went nuts and I mean nuts, you could barely see the 70 inch television with all the jumping and celebrating that was going on in front of it. The Dutch tried in vain to make up for the deficit, but it just didn't happen in the little time they had left. Iniesta's goal would stand as the only one of the match. I've had a number of what I would classify as surreal moments in my life, the election of Barack Obama as president being one of them, but Spain winning the World Cup the celebrating was crazy. I really, really wish that I had not been working that night. We counselors were still in charge of the kids and couldn't celebrate in an adult type fashion. The party for the kids lasted until 3 am and quite a few of them complained a great deal about having to go to bed that early. I couldn't really blame them, it was huge moment for their country, at least within the lense of sport. Spain had never won the World Cup before, it remains to be seen that they will win again, but that's four years from now, so who honestly knows?

With the late nights, activity planning, getting up earlier than the kids, and the constant responsibilty I was a little tired. I spent the next week in July mostly just sitting around the apartment of a friend, not doing anything and watching too much TV. It's amazing how much I missed the personal space and the tranquility of being able to be by myself. I spent a little bit of time trying to get ready for the Camino de Santiago that I had wanted to start right after I finished the camp. I after about 5 days back in Madrid I was ready to go. I got down to the bus station the day before I thought the bus would be leaving for Tarbes. Tarbes is a small French town a little over the border of Spain and France. Lourdes is a famous pilgrimage destination that is near to Tarbes. Lourdes is where I was going to attempt to start the walking portion of my journey to Santiago de Compostela.

I think that's where I'm going to leave it for now, this entry has all ready made up for the lack of them over the last few months. The few people I've known that have actually told me that they read the accounts of my life here, will have to wait to hear the rest of my journeys this summer.