Phil tells me that any time you’re running consistently sooner or later you’ll fall on your ass. And…he’s usually right.
Topeka. 2011. Tripped over a cracked sidewalk. Fell. Scraped my knee. Oh ouch.
Joplin. 2012. Slipped on the ice. Fell. Broke my wrist. Ok. That was a real ouch.
Joplin. 2015. Phooey.
Prepared for my long run. Snacks. Drinks. Running watch and gear and sunblock.
Headed out. Lovely morning. 62 degrees. Little breeze to keep me cool. Felt fine.
Until…guess who wasn’t watching where she was going? Who was looking ahead at her next turn? And didn’t see where the asphalt ended at a 90 degree angle?
Limped down the street on my twisted ankle.
Decided to be smart.
Washed and bandaged my wounds.
Of course the worst bit (at the time)… The little old couple out working in their garden. Very, very concerned.
“Are you all right, dear?”
“Did you trip?”
Yep. Tripped right over the D#*(@!!! street.
Until next time…be careful out there.