So I'm training for a half marathon on February, 7th, right? I'm about...1/3 of the way into training. We (Janae and I) are up to 5 miles and were supposed to run 6 miles tonight. Things have been going fairly smoothly, we're running a steady 9 minute pace with hopes of possibly reducing it to 8.5 minutes by the end, and looking to finish the race in a little under 2 hours. That's the plan.
Well sometimes, things don't go according to plan.
Tonight, only about 10 steps into our 6 mile run, there was a...bit of a hiccup.
Janae and I were talking about who was going to set the pace tonight. She tends to start a bit faster than I do, so I've been pacing us and starting a little slower. We do fine for a while, then I pull her through mile 2.5-3.5, then she pulls me through mile 4, then we coast at mile 5. At least that's been the trend. So we were discussing if we were going to try it at her beginning pace, or mine. We decided to just start running and see what happens. It's sometimes hard to run with someone else, but with Janae it's been fairly easy so far. I think she's a little faster than me, but we tend to kinda even out throughout the run.
So we're about 10 steps into our run, and I look over at her to say something, and my foot catches a large...bump...in the pavement. It was kind of slow motion from there. I remember looking at Janae, looking at my feet, and trying to catch myself, before finally giving in to the fact that there was no stopping it.
I was going down.
I think I caught myself on my two palms first, but then bounced? a little and landed on my right elbow. I also, at some point, scraped my leg along the pavement, before finally rolling over and coming to a resting place on my side. I was half laughing, half crying out, "Ow! Ow! Janae, Ow! It hurts! Ow, Janae!" She was great, held my hand, and I think just tried to figure out what to do. Girls in the dorm next to us looked out through the window at the commotion.
I, of course, knew what was coming next. Anything to do with skin tearing or breaking or getting punctured with me is not good. My ears pierced in 6th grade. Nausea. My shots at the doctor for a missions trip in 8th grade. Nausea. Seeing Mandy get stitches. Nausea. Falling down as Garrett and I were hiking down a mountain. Nausea AND Blackout. Getting stitches for mole removal. Nausea. It's always that way. I can watch blood and gore on tv, but anything to do with skin getting pulled on, punctured, or torn, and I'm done. Nausea means extreme light headed-ness, white lips, lots of yawning, and a huge need for sugar.
Janae went for water and Garrett. When she entered our apartment all she had to say was, "Man down! Beth fell," for Garrett to know what that meant. They both came out and sat with me a while before I eventually walked back. They always seem like silly injuries, but for some reason, the Nausea kicks my butt.
Here's the damage.
Right Elbow.
Two Palms
Of course, Garrett was great and helped me clean it all out and put bandages on.
So, alas, there was no running tonight. I'm recuperating by drinking some Pepsi and am about to down my old usual college taco bell order, a Nacho Cheese Chalupa (Baja Style) and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. I have a feeling it's going to taste really good.
And I'll run it off tomorrow as I watch the ground meticulously for unassuming bumps.
