I’m so far behind I think I’m ahead. One of my favorite sayings of all time.
Almost a month since my last post. So much to catch up on, but so hard to recall everything that’s happened. I’ll start with ‘the fall’, and see if anything else comes to mind.
Two weeks ago I ran my final long run before the race, a 14 miler late on a Monday night. The weather was nice and crisp, around the upper 50s, perfect for running, and I mapped out a route from the house, through downtown, through our old neighborhood, to the north end of town and back.
The first half of the run went very well. I tried to keep about a 9:10 pace; I didn’t want to push the speed and have to deal with soreness the next few days. I remember around mile 9 noticing how easy my breathing felt. I realized how far I’d come in the last year to be able to cruise at that pace for such a long distance without getting slightly winded. I know it’s not fast to many runners, but when I got started I could barely run one mile at that speed.
After about 10 miles I began to notice the heaviness in my legs. My breathing was still good, and I’d been eating energy shots, but that inevitable sluggish feeling was creeping up on my quads. My form typically erodes at this point. My feet get less and less clearance from the pavement, and to make up for it I gradually start lifting my shoulders (I don’t know why, but my body thinks I’m going to get further off the ground by doing this), until my neck and traps start to burn. So as I concentrate on relaxing my upper body, the clearance beneath my feet is still shrinking.
At mile 11 I’m on a neighborhood street with very poor lighting. I see an old lady walking a dog on the opposite side. She’s stopped, while her dog watches me pass. I worry the dog is going to chase me, and drag the little old lady by the leash. After passing them I take one last look back to make sure the dog isn’t coming and it happens. Poorly lit street, uneven sidewalk, tired quads, and shallow strides combine for a blunt contact between my right foot and a chunk of cement. Momentum carries my body forward, but my feet are way behind.
I once saw something on tv about how cats always land on their feet. They showed cats being dropped in slow motion, and it was neat to watch them twist around in the air, finding a way to get their feet under themselves every time. I think as humans we have some of that ability, maybe not to land on our feet, but to minimize the damage when we do fall.
I tripped on that sidewalk pretty hard; there was no way I was going to land on my feet. But I did instinctively shift my weight to my right side, carrying myself over into the grass, and I curled slightly so I did that kind of fall where you softly land on your forearm and roll onto your back, so it’s not really a hard impact. It’s more like a roll. Similar to the tuck and roll you see in the movies when some one jumps from a speeding train. It’s all about making the contact gradual.
So once my body comes to a complete stop next to the sidewalk, I lay there for a second, I’m not hurt, just embarrassed. I hop up and the 90 year old lady walking her dog at 11pm asks me if I’m okay. I am.
As I humbly trot off, I wonder how often other runners fall. After being a runner for all of 17 months, I’ve now fallen twice. And that doesn’t include the mere stumble, I’m talking complete body on the ground falls. I’m averaging 1.41 falls/year.
My other fall involved ice, so it’s less embarrassing… I guess. I stepped out on a cold winter morning to start my run. There was no snow on the ground, but there was a patch of black ice underneath the broken gutter of our car port. Just steps away from the front door put all my weight on one foot for my initial kick off. Right under that initial kick was a patch of solid ice.
This fall was like the ones in cartoons when people step on banana peels. My feet kicked straight into the air and I landed flat on my back. My cat-like reflexes could only save my head; I tucked my chin and kept my head from snapping back onto the pavement. I slid to a stop on the patch of ice and as I typically do when I fall, I laid there for a second wondering how I let this happen before getting up to see if anyone saw me. No one did. I got up and took this fall as a sign I shouldn’t be running, and returned directly to the warmth of my house.
Has anyone else fallen during a run and would like to share? Or non-runners who’ve fallen? Other people fall too, right?
