There are scrapes all down my leg, and there is gravel in my palms. My shoulder is going to bruise up badly tomorrow, but luckily my tattoo is still intact. Although footpath is harder on the feet than road when you’re running, I’m fairly sure that concrete is less painful, all things considered, when you fall on it. It seems like road would be a bit more… abrasive.
Not that I feel like testing it out.
I had this great big extended metaphor that I was going to write, going into the circumstances of how I tripped on the pavement this morning, and extending it further to talk about how I’ve been sick and lazy and haven’t run in weeks and weeks. But what’s the point? I fell. Then, I fell. Guess I’m just a lazy/clumsy bitch.
I’m not going to dwell on it. I went for a ten kilometre run this morning. My lungs didnae like it. I’ve been sick with tonsillitis for some time now. Feeling mostly better, but my throat is still being sucky. I feel like I’m dehydrated all the time. Obviously I didn’t drink enough water yesterday. Not a good idea. Anyway, The first half of the run was tough. It did get better eventually. I did a bunch of good sprints, with the awesome motivation of being chased by zombies.
I had about five hundred metres to go, when I tripped and flailed around for a couple of metres in an attempt to regain my feet. Inevitably, I failed. Skidded across the concrete. An old couple was watching me, and they didn’t ask if I was okay. I guess I didn’t register as an important thing.
Anyway, back to the gym tomorrow. I’ve got me a marathon in January, so I’d better start getting my shit together.
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