Last night was Back to School Night for Lily's class, and while we were there I was chatting with another mom. I noticed that she had a badly skinned knee and asked what happened. When she told me that she had fallen while running, I sighed in sympathy and told her that I felt her pain. I fall while running at least once a year.
Some falls have been spectacular - like the time I tripped while running down a hill on the Trail and went airborne. Others have been full-length splats in the dirt. Once I got tripped up by a dog on one of those (*#*#@ extendy leashes and let loose with a string of curses at the dog's owner that shocked my friends. I've fallen in the dark and in the daylight. I've fallen while running with friends and while running solo. I even fell during a race - I tripped over one of the big orange cones that scream "Warning! Don't step here!"
My knees, hands, shoulders, and even my chin bear the scars of my falls. My knees are often more scraped up than my kids'.
I've been doing very well with my latest return to running, and this morning I got up at 6:00 and headed out the door. Even though we've lived in this house for seven years, I managed to miss the last step off the porch. I went down HARD, with my left wrist and shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.
I sat there for a few minutes and collected my wits before starting my run, which ended up being a good one. But my wrist and shoulder are still sore.
While I was making the girls' breakfasts, I told them about the fall, and they laughed at me. I told them it was like when a cartoon character walks off a cliff and hangs there a few seconds before falling.
That last step was indeed a doozy.