Last night on my run, I tripped and fell. I am not a graceful person and I seem to fall more often than I’d like to admit. But falling is still such an odd thing. It’s so startling and jarring.
I was running in 35 degrees, in the dark and just about to step into the street and off the sidewalk, which was totally uneven from all of the big, old trees. I had one more step to go and that last one was where I ate it. I scraped my palms, my side and my elbow. Walking home I decided that running in the winter in Portland is so damn stupid.
I’m just grateful that I was at the end of my run and not at the middle. It was likely because I was at the end and my legs were tired, specifically my left leg which I broke years ago. I can tell that years of favoring my right leg are taking their toll. I have a slight limp when I’m tired and in exercise class, there’s a considerable difference in my abilities on my left and right sides. Physical therapy, here I come!
After my fall, my joints ached. My palms still smart. I dislike falling. But I’m going to try to embrace it. In fact, when I was falling last night, I had two very clear thoughts: make sure your don’t bang your face and bring your arms in so you don’t break a bone. I did both of things. Next time I’m going to add: Relax, you’ll be fine.