Falling Pig

Noah and I got up early to go to the Wanderers' Saturday morning run today. We ran from our house down to Valley Green, me feeling like a zombie. I am not a morning runner. Apparently, the group that shows up on Saturday mornings are the faster regulars. I figure everyone would take off and Noah and I would enjoy the trails together.

We ran up the yellow trail on the Roxborough side up to Bells Mills and then up the 1.4 miles through the meadows to Northwestern. I was feeling good but not up to risking injury, so I held back a bit. After we crossed the creek, we ran back on the Chestnut Hill side along a very rocky trail, and eventually we dropped off a bit. I got to talk with Monica about her marathon in Minnesota two weeks ago. And while the conversation shifted to the Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinati, Ohio, I tripped on a root and fell forward, landing on my torso with my arms straight forward. It was a pretty smooth fall, almost like a dive off the starting blocks in swimming.

Here's a summary of the damage: My hip bone, which is my favorite part of the body and which sticks out sharp, scraped and bled. My thighs, likewise, rubbed against the dirt, causing another bruise and more broken skin. Palms scraped. Knees scraped but won't scab. Since I fell so spectacularly, Monica wondered if I broke anything. I got up and did a quick check of every place where I feel pain. I decided it was all skin. Good job, pig! At that point, the best thing to do would be to not touch the wounds with my dirty hands, and get myself back to the Valley Green to rinse off.

9-10 miles today earned me a few more scars to brag about to strangers.