Bam!

Bam!

One of the goals I set when I started running was to do whatever it took to never, ever fall while running. I stated this on more than one occasion to more than one person. I made my commitment public to show I meant it. I’d heard the horror stories. Mother of two, starts running for fitness to “be there” for her kids, trips, ends up on leave from work making no money, having surgery and doing no housework, recovering while her kids miss swim practice and taekwondo because she cannot drive them. Ugh. I’d read marathon blogs recounting tales of journeys ended by a handful of misplaced steps off the pavement in an ill-fated effort to improve run time while passing slow walkers. I’d been given advice from experienced competitive runners, runners who’ve had serious wipe-out experience, skids, twists, and splats that ended their races after months of preparation. Accordingly, I took precautions. I stayed on the path. No turf for me. I chose sidewalks that were smooth, opting for the street if there were protruding branches or lifted slabs. I avoided surfaces littered in tree fruits or nuts like acorns, tamarind, and such. The bit of shade just wasn’t worth the risk. Running after dark, I trained a flashlight on the ground on front of me to ensure I was ready for whatever was there. I was even wary of dehydration since numerous spills have been attributed to poor judgment and the decrease in response time that may accompany it.

Then it happened. The weather was beautiful. The sun was shining. No clouds. A perfect 75 degrees. My husband and I decided to go for a 6 mile run. The first two miles were awesome. It was starting to warm up, so the third and fourth mile we took it a little more slowly. Even though I was thirsty, I started conserving. I took smaller swigs of water but a little more frequently than usual. I was a little concerned I would run out before we ran back by the corner market where we could buy more. My husband hadn’t run  distance in weeks and offered to interject longer walk breaks any time I needed them. Still, I felt strong, happy I could keep on going. We continued running and started down the little main street that ran through our town. People were walking around smiling. We were passing by an outdoor café in sight of the corner market and fresh, cold drinking water, when the unimaginable happened. Mistaking a three-inch river rock for an oak leaf, I kissed the pavement. It wasn’t a direct fall, more of a convulsion really. As my foot hit the rock, my brain realized it was, in fact, a rock. The moment my ankle shifted to twist, my brain, the primitive animal reaction part of it, sprung into self-defense mode. To save my ankle, I shifted all of my weight forward, too quickly to stop with the next step. Stumble, stumble, plop. I simply could not get my body to move quickly enough to avert the fall. There I sat, feet away from two women breakfasting in their Sunday best, hands, knees, and shin scraped. The impact and rolling action made one of my hands temporarily useless. Worst yet, my pride had shattered into a million pieces as I regained my composure on a beautiful Sunday morning on the sidewalk of a street café.

As I sat on the sidewalk that sunny morning, in the middle of the sidewalk facing my husband who was kind enough to have a seat with me, I looked around at the diners slowly returning their attention to their breakfasts and previous conversations. I felt embarrassed, both surprised and relieved that nobody came over. Still, two ladies at the table closest me continued their discussion, never taking their eyes off of me. I wanted to get out of there but my right hand wouldn’t cooperate in my efforts to push myself up and I eventually I had to ask my husband to hoist my disconcerted carcass from the walkway. In somewhat of a daze we walked the last two blocks to the corner market and fresh, cold drinking water. Water purchased and consumed, we headed back out. The sun was shining. A light breeze was flitting through.  Refreshed, we walked another quarter of a mile, stopping to patronize the lemonade, cookie, and radish stand manned by a toddler and his maybe third grade sister. Then, we resumed our run.