Monday, June 24, 2013
But there was an incident today.
I tripped. In the second before I hit my knees and rasped my palms against the asphalt, I remember realizing I was not going to be able to stop myself from falling and anticipating pain. Bam! I looked up, slapped my hands on the ground in frustration and got up. I dusted myself off, smoothed my running skort and checked for injuries. Scraped up left elbow, hole in pants of right knee, scrape underneath. Pride, slightly dented.
A man up ahead yelled to me was I OK? He said I was the second person he had seen trip in the same spot. (Pride undented a bit.) Not one for litigation, I simply stated I should be more careful. I walked ten yards then resumed my run, four more miles. The adrenaline boost may have shaved a minute off my time. Nothing hurt until I got back to the car.
Well, no big d. I figure that besides being hit by a bike or car, or falling off a cliff or some sort of ledge, this is the worst injury I could sustain while running. Right? (Knock on wood.) That said, it's just not fun to fall when you are forty-plus years old.