In order to increase the likelihood that I will finish a marathon this fall, I entered this wacky 200 mile relay called Tom's Run. Runners have bike escorts to make sure they traverse the path safely. I was running a leg somewhere in Nowheresville, MD (Pop. 25, frog pop. 18,295) at around 10 pm last night and tripped over something big. Chris, my bike escort, laughed at me.

The photo below is my new roommate Erin debriding my wounds. She's an expert because she's a prior. I trust her completely. Except... she did lock me in her car at one point last night. On accident. I think. Just a warning: if you happen to be in a BMW and the doors are locked from the outside, there's nothing you can do. The doors won't open from the inside, and the horn doesn't work. They're also quite soundproof, so people on the outside might mistake your bloodcurdling screams for frogs having sex (Erin did). I might buy a BMW, so in case I come across a fugitive from justice I can lock him inside my car until the authorities arrive.

I'm smiling in this picture. I wasn't smiling later when I got locked in the car.