On Saturday, I’d planned to get up and run. I was on a roll this week, and I really wanted to take advantage of the fact that I had nothing really set for the morning, except for cleaning and prepping for girls’ night. The temp was perfect, right at 82 degrees. I got dressed and headed down to one of my favorite trails. My goal was 4.5 miles.
I felt good. Better than I have in a very long time. As I was heading along at my normal, comfortable, easy pace, I didn’t think about all the people passing me. I thought about my official dec-slow-ration of independence from what normal runners are supposed to be. And it was awesome. I ran consistently for a little over two miles out and back, something I’ve not done in quite some time. I stopped off at my car to hydrate before hitting a different trail to complete my last two miles.
As I was walking back across the street, feeling good and loving life, it happened. My inner klutz overpowered my new-found inner diva, and I inadvertently did some off-roading. That’s right—I busted my ass. And it wasn’t even a cool, “oh, wow, I’m-so-into-the-run” type fall. I was walking. To the trail. My foot slipped off the concrete walk and I went flying forward.
I skinned up my hand, along with some damage to my knee, shin and pride. I don’t think anyone saw. But my poor bruised ego prevented me from running for a little bit. I managed to get my courage and confidence back and finished strong. It took me a while, but I was happy with my time of about an hour. I took several walking breaks, and there was some construction going on that I hadn’t expected. Not to mention, this is the farthest I’ve gone since my 10k back in May (sheesh, I can’t believe it’s been that long) and I didn’t get too tuckered out.
I treated myself to a new outfit for our dancing excursion and some frozen yogurt. All better 🙂
Have you ever fallen while running? Any major injuries?