My fucking wisdom tooth is impacted.

I’ve only ever had one wisdom tooth show itself, but I guess I wasn’t giving it enough attention because after three years of poking peacefully out it decided to violently emerge on Sunday. It is now stabbing into the back of my mouth creating various unpleasant abrasions and impeding many activities I enjoy, such as eating and swallowing. I have an appointment with an oral surgeon tomorrow but in the mean time I am hungry, dehydrated, and (in case this wasn’t apparent) really fucking cranky.

You can imagine, then, the gleeful gusto with which I approached my first hill training this afternoon. This windy, near-freezing, really fucking rainy afternoon. I was soaked to the bone in approximately thirty seconds, though the full hand/arm numbness didn’t set in for fifteen minutes, which at least distracted me from the knife-like pains in my jaw, or at least accompanied them harmoniously as I ran up a big muddy hill, over and over again, as Coach Phil intoned cheerfully, “This shouldn’t feel good!”

Well shit. I must be doing it right.