Two of my dear misguided sisters are heading off in May to run in a relay in Nova Scotia. Much as I admire their resolve and dedication, I am quite content with the fact that I will never take part in that type of event.
Well, I have been thinking about the race, and how beautiful the Cabot Trail is, and how my mother was probably right when she commented that since a lot of the run takes place at night, the scenery probably isn’t going to be much of a distraction. I was 0ut for a walk (the terrain here is flat; not at all like the Cabot Trail) a few days ago, walking shorts, a golf shirt, sandals, and I was feeling pretty good. So good, in fact, that I decided to run. Well, maybe a slow jog. Since I had the cover of anonymity, being in an undeveloped subdivision (they did that a lot down here in Phoenix- put in the streets, the sidewalks, the street lights, then the developers went broke and walked away. Whole neighborhoods without houses. Kinda eerie.) without prying eyes, I ran maybe a hundred metres. Then I walked, then I ran again, maybe two hundred metres. Then I walked again, then ran some more. By this time I was on a path between two rows of actual houses. Rubbernecker that I am, I like to look in people’s back yards. I find them infinitely more interesting than front yards. I slowed to a walk, then stopped at a particularly well-landscaped yard. I was checking out some plants, when boom. I rolled my ankle and went down like a stone. My first thought was “If I have broken my ankle, I will just tape it and go to the hospital when I get back to Saskatoon.” Then I thought how nice and warm it was lying on the gravel, and maybe I would just lie there for a while and synthesize some vitamin D and pretend I meant to lie down. Then I remembered that there are ginormous anthills around here, and the rattlesnakes are starting to wake up, and I struggled to my feet and limped home.
The result: Fairly significant road rash on my left calf and knee (out of which I am still picking gravel), road rash on the side of my right foot, my left elbow and both palms, a bruise on my right thumb and palm, a really big black bruise on my left hip, and shredded dignity. I will spare you the pictures. I took two Tylenol and went to bed for the afternoon.
I spent some time trying to figure out how to blame my sisters for this ignomy; all this running nonsense going through my brain and contributing to my delusions of athleticism; when I realized that it wasn’t the running that was the issue. It was the standing still.
I am going to have to change the way I do things.
I’m going to sit down.
Under Sask Skies 