So after 20 something years of what I would consider being a mostly functional bi-ped, my streak came to an end this week.
On Thursday, I was out running with my friends Matt and Josh with the Snug. The trail goes from the bar on Colfax, through Cheeseman Park, around the outside of the Botanical Gardens and then back to the bar. Matt, Josh and I made it safely through the park, which is a feat of it's own because the city is doing construction in it during the winter, so there are piles of dirt all over the place and it's hard to find the trail at night depending on what they did during the day. Luckily, I followed the Snug's suggestion and got a headlamp so I could see where I was going after the sun went down. Josh fell behind since he was sore from the day before's workout, but Matt and I followed the 5 Ds of dodgeball: dodge, dip, duck, dive and dodge, to make it over, around, through and under the obstacle course also known as a park.
But once we turned the corner to go by the Botanic Gardens it became clear that I left my bi-ped skills in the park. I stubbed my toe and immediatly proceeded to eat sidewalk. I brused my hands, my knees and my ego, which was made obvious when I yelled many explatives at the top of my lungs! But Matt was right next me, picked me up, helped me brush off, and we were on our way.
I thought this experience was behind me when I decided to go for my regualr run to Wash Park on Saturday. It was a beautiful day and there were a ton of people at the park showing off the new gear they got from Santa and had just unwrapped that morning. On my way back home I ran into my friend Marshall, who was just getting started on his run to the park. We hugged and wished eachother a happy regular old December 25th before Marshall told me about the awful day he'd had at work the day before. "I might be toxic", he said, referring to everything that he touched going wrong, "I probably should have said something before we hugged." I blew it off thinking it was just a coinsidence.
So there I am on Seventh heading back to my apartment, excited and exhausted because I am almost done with the 6.5 mile trail and because the best part, the very end, is all down hill! Clearly my mind was elsewhere, because before I knew it, I was again eating sidewalk. This time I didn't curse, because I remembered just walking past an old man that probably didn't care to hear what was going through my head. So instead I just rolled over and started to cry. I've been running, we'll say regularly because it is certainly not as much as I should be, for almost a whole year and now twice in a matter of 3 days I am flat on my face. This time I banged up my shoulder and hands, hit my head and scrapped up my knees.
The old man I'd just run past came to make sure I was ok and see if I wanted a ride home. I was only a few blocks away, so I declined. But you better bet that on the walk home I was thinking about Marshall and his toxic hug not 20 minutes before.
So now that I am terrified of all the sidewalks in Denver, I think I'll suffer through my time on the treadmill...until either my knees or my ego are back to normal.
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