I must really be weird, sticking out like a sore thumb. Now I know why the dentist sounded so doubtful when I told him last Thursday evening in my office wear, that I fell and chipped two of my teeth while running that evening before. A normal human being would have taken leave from work the very next day to see him, yet I had worked on Thursday and even on Friday right after my extraction no. 1 - a tiny baby of a tooth. Now I am officially on leave after having extracted two front "giant" teeth on Saturday, which was more painful - especially the injection to my palate. Though, in all honesty, the mental wound was deeper. No, not because I am now temporarily disfigured with a huge, ugly gap in my mouth, the raw pinkish gum conspicuous, but because I simply can't shred fat, juicy meat like I used to now. My first question to the dentist was, how am I going to eat? - Silly, silly me. The dentist must be thinking: "You can still chew with your teeth behind, you idiot!"
Okay, I admit I was slightly depressed after the first look in the mirror, staring at the wound. But then I was up and kicking after a hot shower. I thought things couldn't be that bad, or at least not as bad as for Michael K in J.M. Coetzee's novel "Life & Times of Michael K". He has not much to eat, yet here I am jumping up and down, just because I can't do without my front teeth?
Status report: On Sunday, one day after extractions, I was forking fish and chips to my back teeth before wolfing them down. Enough said.
On hindsight, which is more silly: that I broke my teeth while running, or asking the dentist what to do without my front teeth? I say, this would be a pretty close finish.
Seriously, now I am a bit concerned about regaining my confidence in running...Nah, I have already planned some new running routes.
Oh, I forgot to mention: I've always hated my overlapping, protruding "giant" front teeth.