Heartbroken (expletives redacted)

Today Hubby and I packed our towels and goggles and headed toward the pool. The weather was perfect for pool time: warm, dry, and sunny. I was looking forward to swimming laps the way I normally look forward to happy hour on a Friday evening.

When we arrived, the parking lot was ominously empty. This sign was posted on the locked gate:

Closed for the season

Seriously?

This is FLORIDA.

It's 80-something degrees outside today and will be hot until Thanksgiving. What "season" are they talking about?

But these are first world problems. I'm bummed, but I'll survive.

Trying to make the best of the situation, Hubby and I went home, changed clothes, grabbed our Speedminton rackets, and headed to another park.

We were both feeling sort of stiff at the start, so we did some dynamic stretching to loosen up. We sent a couple of volleys back and forth, and just as I started thinking "it's a gorgeous afternoon, maybe Speedminton is more fun than the pool anyway..."

I felt a pop.

**string of expletives redacted to spare sensitive readers' eyes**

My right calf feels like someone is jabbing a knife into the soft part.

My pf-ing foot had finally started to feel better. I was going easy on the return to running (which is partly why I was headed to the pool in the first place). I had even started to plan for two fall half marathons.

But clearly something is still wrong in my southern hemisphere.

Now if you'll excuse me...

I have some more cussing to do, and I am incapable of writing more at the moment without including the F-bomb. So I'll spare you the expletives and yell where only Peanut and Hubby can hear me.