Yesterday, day 18 of Bishops Challenge, I fell. Not just a little fall, but a full, sprawled out fall. David and I were running down the trail, I lost my footing, I grabbed a branch to slow myself down, and David looked back just in time to see me hit to dirt with the broken branch in hand.
To some of you, this might sound familiar. Maybe because I did the exact same thing about 6 months ago. Last fall, I was racing in a 10K up San Luis Mountain. Most people chose to do the 5K around the lake, and only the elite runners opted to participate in the journey of death UP the mountain. Needless to say, I was near the back of the pack. David ran with me to keep me company. So we got to the top, and I decided to go fast on the downhill to try and catch up with all the old ladies who beat me on the way up. As I passed this guy, I realized that he was the disabled guy I talked to before the race. He did a little stumble, but managed to stay up. He seemed embarrassed, so I said, "Good catch. This downhill part is hard, huh? It would be really easy to fall."
I got about 20 yards in front of him, sprinting, and my ankle gave out. I flew like I was sliding into home plate. David was a little bit behind me, and he and the other guy saw the whole thing. My hands and legs were scraped, and my boob felt like it'd been ripped off. I got up and kept running, my entire body covered in dirt. I finally made it to the finish line after about 7 years, and as I was getting water, a guy said, "Are you okay?" I said, "Did you see me fall?" And he said, "No, but it's pretty obvious," pointing to my dirt-covered body.
(San Luis Mountain on the left, and Bishop's on the right.)
To some of you, this might sound familiar. Maybe because I did the same thing, but on a bike, about a month before that.
I could go on like this for a while.
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