At approximately 11:00 this morning I was at mile 9 of 13 and I biffed.
Nothing like your body skidding across cement to get the adrenaline flowing! My hip took the brunt of it and I have some lovely scrapes on my ribs, elbow and hands. Oh. And there was dirt all over so when I got up, not only was I sweaty and bloody, I was also dirty. Even worse? It was across the street from a busy Starbucks. Awesome. Hey coffee enthusiasts! Look how great I am at running! Yay! Boom.
I was a hot mess the last 4 miles of my run. Blood from my hip trickled down my WHITE shorts mixing nicely with all the dirt on them. I looked like some maniac drunk who had just escaped a mid-day bar fight. But a fight only involving midgets who could only swing at my hips and elbows, I guess.
This isn't the first time this has happened. FYI. Last summer (and actually about a block away from this morning's little trip) I tripped over a dog leash during a run and smacked my knees into the ground and broke my wrist. The winter before that I was running up a snowy and slick hill and wiped out, smashing my forhead into someone's retainer wall, resulting in a ginormous welt.
And it's not really that any of it hurts all that much. I mean, it does, but not as much as the fact that as an adult I have trouble moving without falling. What the hell? At least I haven't done that at races. Oh, except that I have.