On my run this morning, I was thinking that I wouldn’t have much to write about because this week’s runs were boring, uneventful, as runs should be.

Well, ask and the sidewalks shall be uneven for thee.

I prefer a Slow-Mo Superman fall, where my limbs are all splayed out like a cat who is jumping off a roof, except that instead of landing, I essentially do a belly flop on whatever hard surface I’ve had the misfortune of falling on. My legs go first, I try to outstretch my arms to catch myself, but they just end up sliding forward on the concrete. Thankfully, this morning, my head ended up on the grass, so my beautiful face escaped unscathed.

I had been running for approximately 7 minutes, btw.

My first thought, as I lay face down on the ground, was, “Ouch”, quickly followed by, “I wonder if anyone was watching and if they were, I hope they got it on video tape”. (I love watching people fall. It’s usually very graceful.)

I righted myself and assessed the damage- the “meat” of both hands are scraped up and I’m basically missing the entire top layer of skin on my left knee. I decided that I’m not hardcore enough to continue running on my bloody stump of a knee so I started to walk home. What’s funny is that, although I looked like a bloody, speed-walking zombie, no one seemed to notice. I passed a gaggle of junior high kids that were simply trying not to make eye contact. I would think that a bleeding runner, with blood dripping down her leg, isn’t something that you would expect to find on your morning drive to school but I didn’t even get a “Hey! Look, mom!”

What’s the matter with kids today?

I’m mildly surprised that we’ve been at this for about two months and this is the first time I’ve fallen. When I was in 3rd grade, I was chasing a boy that I liked around the track and I tripped and fell ON MY FACE. I recorded in my diary that I had “hamburger nose”, which was an apt description of how my face looked.

Dear 3rd grade Beth,

You’re sadly mistaken if you ever think that your running abilities will impress anyone…ever.

Love, Beth

Dear mid-to-late-twenties Beth,

There’s my girl. You were looking like a coordinated athlete for a second.

Love, Beth