Sunday, March 4, 2012

Road Rash

I am not exactly what you would call 'athletic'. I am more what you would call 'laughably inept at most sports requiring any kind of skill or coordination'. So you can imagine my surprise when I started running a few years ago that not only do I really enjoy it, but I also appear to have an affinity for it. After all, how hard is it to do something that most people learn to do before they're two? As a sport, you just do it for a longer period of time, and with less joy.

With the exception of stupid plantar fasciitis, I have so far escaped injury. I did get whipped in the face once with a tree branch, and I've stepped in poop, and I've almost peed my pants and one time I came really close to vomiting, but I've never really hurt myself. Until yesterday.

I was having a really good run. It was my favorite kind of running weather, 50 degrees and overcast, no wind. Only about a mile in, and my legs were starting to loosen up. It takes that long for me to go from 'fuck my legs are made of lead' to 'I am Zola Budd wheeeee!'. There is a short leg of my regular route, where I come out of our neighborhood, down the busy main street, past the grocery store, through a business park, and back down to the neighborhood again. It is one of my least favorite parts of a short run, but includes a great uphill and a nice, steady downhill.

I'm running down the main road at a good clip, when all of a sudden my asshole left ankle decides to roll. I totally collapsed, like a gazelle caught in mid leap by a hunter's bow. Okay, maybe more like a water buffalo tripping over a stump, but whatever. You get the idea.

Bitch went down.

I shredded my right calf, seriously abrased my left knee, and hurt my poor widdle hands. I cried. I said lots of bad words. I jumped up and down and sprayed blood all over the road. I wish I had pulled a Nancy Kerrigan and rolled around in the road screaming WHHHHYYYYY? But I was hugely embarrassed and I didn't think of it. No one stopped, which is both horrifying (I can only assume that all the people driving by were yankees) and relieving (maybe they were transients and there's no chance they'll recognize me when we meet in the grocery store).

Because I am really very tough, I ran home. I thought, If marathoners can finish a race with poopypants, by God I can run home with a skinned knee! And I did feel a little badass, running and bleeding. of course, I wasn't bleeding badly, and it was only like a quarter of a mile to the house but, still. A little badass.

The Husband was napping with the baby when I got home, so I did what any good attention whore would do in the digital age. I posted it on Facebook.

Isn't that horrifying? Aren't your horrified?

It's really just a glorified scrape, but it looks terrible and I figure I can limp around for a few days and get some sympathy. I don't think I can cook dinner tonight, my leg really hurts. I don't think I can do the laundry, my leg really hurts. 


I take the breaks where I can find them, friends. 

23 comments:

  1. wait, marathoners poop their pants?

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  2. LMBO, but I really am sorry you got hurt. I started running a little over 6 months ago and love it. No terrible accidents yet, knock on wood. :)

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    1. i recommend not being a dumbass, as preventative care. Lol

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  3. My friend, you certainly know how to tell a story and true to your style you are able to make several references to poop. :-)

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  4. You really are badass. Totally. Oh, and I'm a Yankee, but I absolutely would have stopped--to get a picture, if nothing else.

    No, no, no. I would have stopped and offered to help.

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    1. You are a very polite yankee, and I'm sure you wouldn't laugh until later,

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  5. I am horrified. Not by your boo-boo, but by the fact I've been calling your blog "Southern Fried Chicken" FOREVER. I was showing my husband something you wrote and he thought the name was clever. I corrected him when he said "children." That's when he pointed out that I can't read (or rather, I read too fast and often miss things). A thousand apologies. I am ashamed...

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    1. Children is decidedly more clever than chicken. But don't feel bad, there are several of my relatives who consistently get it wrong. They just think I really like chicken, I guess.

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  6. oh, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, you poor thing! The price we pay for good health! Just think how healthy you are now. (Uh, wait, that didn't come out right........)

    xxo
    MOV
    ps--feel better

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    1. Well, I have to say it is worth it. If I have to bust myself up every few years to enjoy the benefits, I'm down with that!

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  7. Ow, ow, ow! I would have stopped if I were driving past you. And I wouldn't even have laughed.

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    1. You are a better woman than me, Stephanie. I would have stopped, but I totally would have laughed.

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  8. Bless your sweet widdle heart and your widdle hands!

    But eff you for having such nice legs.

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    1. Can you imagine if some dudes with a leg AND a scab fetish came across this post?

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  9. "Bitch went down."

    I totally lost my shit (pun intended) at that part.

    [You can't answer comments right now- your leg hurts too much.]

    -Motaki, Aspiring Falconer

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  10. That injury qualifies you for at least a week of no chores and of being taken to restaurants. Tell 'em I said so.

    Hope you heal quickly! It sure looks painful.

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  11. You are hardcore. I also now know for certain I will never be a marathoner. I would totally have laughed but my daughter would have made me stop and help, though. So, the running, is it hard? I sometimes think I would like to take it up, but fear passing out on the side of the road somewhere. Is it as bad as all that?

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  12. I totally would have posted it on Facebook, too. What's the point of having this kind of shit happen if you can't use it to get attention?

    I used to run, back before I was stricken by my asshole illness, and I am now profoundly jealous of you. I just wanted you to know that. I was already pretty jealous because of your ability to work poo into everything artfully, and your award nomination and your talent for fiction. Now I think I might actually hate you. Except in that sad "Do you want to be my friend?" kind of a way.

    Gosh, you just never know where people will go with it when you post photos of your boo-boos, do you?

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  13. I don't think there are words to express my horrification. Ouch. Hope you've been working the crap out of the sympathy angle, too. Mamas really don't get the opportunity all that often. You gotta do it while you've got the chance.

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  14. My husband went running on the first evening of our 2 week Hawaian vacation. He spent the rest of our vacation in an air cast.

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