According to Statius, Achilles was taken by his mother, Thetis, to the river Styx. There she held her son by the heel and dipped him in the river in an attempt to purify him and make him immortal. Only his heel remained dry and thereby mortal and susceptible. The convoluted story tells of Achilles best friend being murdered by Hector. Achilles goes ballistic and not just kills Hector, but threads leather straps through his calcaneal tendons to drags Hector's body in the streets. Hector's dad, Priam, asks for the body of his son. Achilles receives Priam and all is well and good as the Trojan war continues, until Paris, Priam's son, shoots Achilles in the heel. Achilles dies.
All these millenia later, we still use the term Achilles heel to describe both tendinitis of the calcaneal tendon, or to describe any terrible weakness.
Walking today was a bit tricky, my Achilles tendons were hot and painful. I walked gingerly. I elevated. I iced. I medicated. I rested. I stretched. Feeling better.
In another version of the story, Thetis dips Achilles in ambrosia, the food of the gods, and attempts to set him on fire to burn away his mortal bits. She is interrupted by Achilles' dad, goes stark raving and flees.
I like the idea of Thetis dipping her son in ambrosia. In my mind, ambrosia is satiny chocolate, beautiful when melted. I wonder what effects that had on Achilles' pallette. I wonder if he looked like Easter candy.
My oven is still warm from baking ambrosia this evening, my Achilles' heel. Chocolate cupcakes dipped in satiny chocolate glaze. Friends and neighbors are well fed. It was an excuse to go visiting.
Food wise: Intake 1523 calories (It isn't about eating chocolate cake, it's about sharing chocolate cake!) Not sure about how much output today. Not worth mentioning, I'm sure.
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