October 12th 2016
Today I was punished by the God’s of running and/or gravity for being so confident about my recent progress.
I was out on a lunch time jog, as I normally am, and we went to this forest/loop/ascent/thing. Getting up a hill is, naturally, a lot harder than coming down. But it was the coming down bit that hurt the most, as I – quite literally – fell flat on my face.
I was gliding down the hill and tripped over a root or something. My momentum threw me forward and gravitate pulled me downwards. I just about managed to flop my elbows in front of my body before I hit the ground and slid for five feet before stopping.
Both of my knees were cut open and blood was already dripping down my legs. My forearms and elbows took most of the brunt of the fall, and I was left with arms decorated with scrapes, cuts, and (probably soon) bruises.
I guess adrenaline numbed the pain at the time, but I wiped off the mud and blood in the shower when I finally made it back to the office, and it stang like a motherfucker.
‘It’ being four of the joints in my legs and arms (elbows and knees, that is) Pain in all four limbs is not ideal for running, but I made it back. My groin hurt a bit as well.
Perhaps it was an external force warning me off running for the winter.
Perhaps something is telling me not to push my body too hard now that I’ve set myself a target of exercising every day this week.
Perhaps I tripped because my foot connected with an unearthed root in the ground, hidden by a pile of leaves, that didn’t move when I ran into it.
I’d say the last one was most likely.
Cuts and bruises are not injuries, they’re inconveniences. It’s muscles you have to worry about – not skin.
Oh, and I guess a broken bone would be debilitating for a runner.
Until tomorrow, heads, shoulders knees and toes, knees and toes.