BLUUUUUUDDD!

So, I know I haven't posted in a while, but I guess late is better than never.  I have one story that I really want to get down on paper, so I am going to pretend like I just ran my 18 mile race.  Hehehehe. 

So, I went out for my 18-miler and decided to take a new course rather than doing two laps in my 9 mile forest preserve.  I needed to run from my house to Meacham and Golf in Schaumburg and then turn around and come back.  Of course I was nervous because this was to be my first LONG run after doing an 18 miler a few weeks prior (the one during which I injured my hip). 

So, I set out.  I was  jogging along at a happy pace when: WHAM! I hit an upturned piece of pavement and went down.  I scraped my knee, but out of embarrassment, quickly got up and started running again.  After a short while, I stopped to look at the damage.  The cut was bleeding, so I squirted some water on it to clean it a little bit.  This caused the blood to run down my legs almost to my ankles.  so what would any rational human being do? Leave it.  I started running along thinking to myself, "Man am I cool.  I'm tough.  yeah, I fell. So, what?  I got up and kept going! Take that!" Hahahaha! I am such a dork…

So I am running along and, wouldn't you know it: at mile 7-ish my hip starts to bug me.  It was nothing horrible and since I was only a couple miles off of my turnaround, I decided to keep going.  It was a hot day, but it was overcast and I was feeling good, so I didn't want to shorten my run. 

I finally hit my turnaround and lingered a little at the busy corner so people could get a good view of my knee before proceeding back to my house. 

I was good on GU and I had a decent amount of water, but I had brought money with me so I could stop and treat myself to a Gatorade on the way back.  I ran into Dominicks at mile 13, went to the bathroom (without cleaning up my knee, of course!) and then bought my Gatorade.  I filled up my water belt and was quickly back on my way. 

Then mile 16 came.  By this point, by hip was really nagging me, but it wasn't that that stopped me; it was a charlie horse in my left calf.  BOY, did it hurt.  I tried to keep running, but my left foot started turning inward and my toes curled under. I had no choice but to stop and try to walk it out slowly.

It was at this point that I was passing a McDonalds and a really nice man was walking to his car.  He stopped when he saw me limping along slowly and said in a very concerned (almost panicked) voice, "Are you ok?"

            I replied, " Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."

            "Did you fall"

            "Oh, yeah. It's ok. It was a while ago."

            And with a strained look of worry, he responded, "But, YOU'RE BLEEDING?!?!"

            "It's dry now," I said as I wiped at the blood near my ankle with my hand.

            He began walking to his car, insisting, "I…I have some paper towels." I was the damsel in distress and this poor man wanted nothing more than to assist me in whatever way he could. I graciously accepted the paper towels, pouring water on them and began sopping up my blood, secretly thinking to myself there goes my cool picture. Sad….I wish I  could have posted this on my blog….

           

As I was cleaning myself up, the man, now much calmer, asked me, "So, how far do you run?" When I responded that I was going 18 miles today, he exclaimed, "18 miles!"

            "Yeah, I am training for a marathon."

            "Wow," he replied, "Well, yesterday I had to do a test and run a mile and a half under 20 minutes.  I did it in 15! I think that's pretty good."

            "WOW," I responded, "That's great.  Good job, really."

            He was so proud of himself.  He went on, "Yeah, not bad for my first time."

            "No, that's great!"

I then thanked the man again for his help, battling through my disappointment over my very clean leg, and went on my way.  I finished the last two miles remembering my beginnings.  I thought back upon the first time I set out to run and how shocked I was with the distance I was able to undertake: 4 miles.  What?! someone with asthma can go that far? I am grateful to this man for not only reminding me that I should probably try to avoid an infection and clean my wounds, but also that every step counts. From the first to the last, we all need to start somewhere.  It’s nothing more than a wonderful journey full of pain, injuries (even if you can't show them off), tears, excitement, celebration and joy in between.