Road Rash

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…


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