It has been many years since I last fell while running. I remember some close calls, especially when trail running in the foothills. I’ve been able to catch myself quite often after tripping over my years of running, but alas, it doesn’t happen every time. 

I really ought not to have been running that day. My body was still recovering from a very strenuous hike, and I was covered in scrapes and bruises on my arms and legs. But I hadn’t run in over a week and I wanted to. So I did. 

There’s a spot on my typical two mile route where a little yappy dog lives. Yappy dog’s house is very interesting; it looks like there are actually two lots with the size of the green yard, but the house itself is very small. There is a fence protecting me from yappy dog, and I’m glad of that, because it really seems to want to get out and bite passers-by. 

On this particular day, yappy dog was not out. But, since sometimes yappy dog will run over after I’ve passed by and bark at my back, I kept an eye on the house instead of on my feet. And my feet decided that the sidewalk was not level enough for their tastes. Or perhaps the sidewalk reached up and grabbed my ankles. 

Whatever the case, I felt myself lose it and tried to take some of the fall on my hands, but the brunt of it was borne by my left knee and right elbow. I did manage to save my cell phone and glasses (and face!), but I’m not exactly sure how. I was wearing long leggings, so I couldn’t see how bad my left knee had been scraped up, and I just ignored my elbow as meaningless to whether I could keep running. 

Because I could keep running. And I did, albeit with a significant addition of caution for the surface that I was running upon. 

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