Don’t they call it “road rash” when you fall off your bike and skid along the pavement? I guess the same description can be applied to a runner who does the same thing. Well, they obviously don’t fall off of a bike, but they still have momentum which causes them to skid along the pavement. All the same, “road rash” is the end result. Maybe I can explain what it feels like because it appears that I have it on both of my palms. I guess it can really only be described as a burning sensation. And when I look at my hands I see a bit of redness and some skin peeled back.
So, why do I have road rash on my hands? Well, this time I wanted to make sure I didn’t get it on my knees. The words “this time” obviously implies that this is not the first time I have gotten road rash. No. I do still remember that last experience vividly and I can even point out the exact location where it happened (in front of the Red Cross building… ha, too funny I know). At least I had more of an excuse last time. You see, my running buddy and I completed a half-marathon last Thanksgiving. However, we were scheduled to run 16 miles that week. So the half-marathon left us 3 miles short. Well, being that my running buddy is slightly OCD, she was not happy with only running 3 miles 2 days later. No, she wanted to run the full 16 miles 2 days later. Did I mention that it was 2 days later? Needless to say, I was kind of tired by the time we were trudging along in front of that Red Cross building. One mindless misstep and I was had. I didn’t have time to brace the impact so my knees took the brunt of it. Yep, it kind of hurt, but I somehow managed to carry on and finish those da!# 16 miles.
What was my excuse tonight? I didn’t really have one. We had just finished 2 loops of the bridges and I haven’t done that in over a month. I was a little tired I suppose. I did have enough energy to break my fall with my hands so my knees would not have to endure the suffering. It actually seemed to happen in slow motion and I just remember being very pissed about the whole situation and cursing at myself as my face approached the pavement. I didn’t cry this time. I just laughed it off and looked around thankful that only my running buddy witnessed the act. Funny that is was along the same road as the last time… only about a 1/2 mile down the street.
I forced myself to get up. Then I told my running buddy that it was her fault that I ate the pavement the last time. Whose fault was it today? I don’t know. She is the one who asked me to go running tonight…