Twice fallen...twice shy!

Okay, Okay! It was bound to happen sooner or later! I'd been running almost 2 years and had yet to fall. Well, up until a few weeks ago, that is. And, then last week, it happened again!

A normal person might say..."To heck with running." or "I better slow down before I kill myself." Some people, once they experience something negative, try at all costs to avoid the very situation that caused them pain. Well, not this girl! I have one thing to say, "I just need to keep a better watch on those damn rocks because I am NOT going to giving up running until they bury me in the dirt!"

Both times that I have fallen...it have been on a 5 -6 miler with my two running buddies. (We are training for a half marathon and training requires us to do LONG runs on the weekend.) And, both times, it was at Mile One of the run!

The first time, I tripped and fell to the ground but, was able to pick myself up, brush myself off and continue as if nothing had happened. My partners stopped to make sure I was okay, but it was apparent that they didn't think it warranted stopping. So, neither did I!

The next time, we were just starting out on a 6 mile loop around the gorgeous Deschutes River. It was 540am. I was chatting up a storm, filling them in on my Memorial Day Escapades...when, BOOOM! I tripped and fell and ended up flat on the ground, staring directly at a very large rock, just centimeters from my face!! I fell much harder this time. Luckily, I had braced myself with my left hand and was able to break my fall somewhat and also avoid hitting my face on that sharp rock! I also had gloves on, since it was a particularly cold morning, which I am certain saved me from even more damage.

Again, my friends stopped in their tracks, checked me out and were happy when I brushed myself off and set off on our run.

It hurt like hell. It was all I could do to keep from crying and continue on. Lord knows, I have a hard enough time running 6 miles on a good day, let alone with a bruised hand and bloody shin/knee!

I finished the run. Drove home. And, once I was in the saftey cocoon of my own home, I bawled like a baby!! My husband just sort of stood there in awkward silence in the kitchen, not quite sure what to say. He grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and scrubbed the you-know-what out of my "owie" while I closed my eyes and cringed. He also brought me three ibuprofens and a glass of water to wash it down! Good man! (Had it been 6PM instead of 6AM, I am sure he would have replaced that glass of water with a glass of wine...or two!)

Life is hard sometimes. Things don't always go the way we expect. Some days, we just need to suck it up and be tough and carry on. And, then sometimes, we just need to let go, surrender to the pain, and have a good old fashioned cry! Some days, we do a little of both.

My hand swelled up the size of an orange, turned some amazing colors and my shin and knee had a nice pattern of road rash all over them...but, thankfully, nothing was broken (except perhaps, my ego!) and I was happily able to complete a 12 mile training run this morning...with NO falls!

If there is one thing, I've learned, it is this: "Keep an eye on the ground, because at any moment, it can rise up and frickin' hit you in the face!" But, I've also learned that you can't let life's little bumps keep you down. For too long anyway!