unlike cats, runners don’t always land on their feet

It was a gorgeous morning today. Sunny and warm, and I was on a nice easy run. But then, at around the 2.9-mile mark of a 3.1 mile run, splat! I was on the ground.

Much of downtown Annapolis has charming brick sidewalks … that over time have warped due to tree roots and wear. I assumed I just tripped over an uneven spot, but people behind me saw I actually stepped into a hole where a brick was missing. Whoops! Didn’t even see it.

I took a few stumbling steps trying to catch myself, but it didn’t work. Fortunately, it was clean fall — I landed on my forearms pretty evenly. Knees didn’t hit, hands were fine … just a little road rash.

Ouch!
Ouch!

In my 10+ years of running, I’m actually surprised I’ve only hit the ground a handful of times. (Knock on wood!). Once I fell on my butt when I made a poor turnaround-point  decision and changed directions on a metal plate, on a misty day. Only a bruised ego that day.

Another time, the sidewalk tripped me towards the end of an otherwise glorious 10-mile run. It was the last long run before a marathon, and we were heading out of town for a cousin’s wedding the next day.  I cut up my knee pretty badly — it left a scar. Those oversized bandaids go well with cocktail dresses 🙂

The worst, of course, was when I fell on my face in the middle of a trail half marathon. I ended up needing six stitches in my chin. But I finished the race!

At least there’s no shame in running clumsiness. Just about every runner I know has met the ground a time or 10 🙂

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