Just keep running...

As if you haven't heard me complain enough...this has been a very tough winter.  And just when everyone thought it was over, it snowed earlier this week, at the end of April.  My new policy is if there is no snow on the ground, I must make every effort to get out and run, because who knows when the next time will be?

Luckily, today was a lovely day.  High 40s, a little windy, but very bright.  I put on my technical jacket and running tights and went to the canal.

I usually don't warm up much before I run, but right away, I started wondering if I should have.  I don't know how to describe it, but I felt like my timing wasn't right.  My hips and my knees just weren't syncing up with my feet hitting the ground, and I almost felt like I was running with a limp, even though I was perfectly fine (as far as I knew).

And then not even half a mile into the run, I fell.  I felt myself losing balance, and I tried every conceivable position to get myself upright, but I couldn't prevent the inevitable.  I had never fallen while running before, even through nasty conditions, but I'm a naturally clumsy person, so I guess it was bound to happen.  Fortunately, I got up unscathed, except perhaps, my pride.

So I continue trotting along, a little more cautious when I fall again.  I didn't even see it coming - one minute, I was upright, and the next, I was on the pavement.  This time, I scraped my knee, and even worse, I had a hole in my favorite, and only pair or running tights (I was much more devastated about my tights than my knee).  I had also rolled my ankle on my way down and it was feeling a little funny.  I almost took it as a sign to turn around and go home.  Almost.

Against my better judgement, I kept on going.  And guess what?  I didn't fall again!  I actually ran another six miles, making for one of my longest runs at seven miles.  The whole time, I thought about my vie for Wineglass in October.  If I could run for seven miles with a rolled ankle and a scraped knee, then I could definitely finish a half-marathon.  It was a little painful at first, but I think endorphins kicked in at some point and I couldn't feel it anymore.  Or maybe the rest of my muscles got so sore, I didn't know what hurt and what didn't.  

I'm going to go with the endorphins theory though, because after I stopped, I noticed my knee was hurting way more than if it were a minor scrape.  I eventually had to peel my torn tights from my knee, which were glued to my skin (or lack thereof) by dried blood.  Yeah.  Not minor.  It's pretty horrifying to look at, but its nothing some Neosporin and large Band-Aid won't fix.  

So even though I suffered a casualty today (RIP running tights), I proved to myself that I might actually be capable of this half-marathon thing after all.  Just gotta keep running.

Please let it be known that I am NOT  advocating that people should run if they are injured.  I'm just telling my story, and how my stubborn little head works.