It's been a while since I've taken a spill during a run... seems like it's been a year and a half since my last fall, and almost 5 years since one similar in nastiness to this one, and that one was at mile 2 of a 10 mile race.
There I was, lost in a neighborhood close to Highview, on the edge of Fern Creek. I had begun this planned 18 miler unsure if I could finish any more than 10 miles.
My first 5 miles were a familiar route that I've used before for 7 to 23 milers, part of an out-and-back route that makes an intentionally indirect weaving path through a neighborhood close to the Gene Snyder Freeway that forms the outer access belt of the county. It's a sidewalk and low-traffic neighborhood route that usually provides 6.8 filler miles in my wanderings through southeast Louisville. I've also used the route to the point that I pretty much hate it--more so than the treadmill.
And so, at mile 5, I needed a different route to keep going. I started veering off toward a route on the other side of Bardstown Rd., thinking that I'd just add a few miles off the busy street before continuing on my more regularly used route.
However, on my diverted route, I decided to explore a street I had never been through before. The first street of the diversion was easy enough to remember, but then I came across a nice little loop road that continued on to another neighborhood. I took the loop road and then exited to another set of roads.
On my way back, I got back on the loop road and tried to find my way back--making at least two loops in the process. Once I finally found my way back to the street I started with, I was mentally fatigued from realizing that I was lost. As I went down the sidewalk on the road back, I didn't notice that there was an unevenness in the sidewalk, and tripped and went for a nice flop onto the concrete.
Because of the cold, the landing on the ground was a dulled shock to the system. I had shake off the cobwebs and force myself up off the ground. Somehow, that spill around mile 10 challenged my ego enough to get me through another 8 miles that were originally in doubt.
It took me a couple of blocks to get moving with any rhythm again, and my leg strength was weakened by the fall. Those last 8 miles were rough and hilly, but the fall somehow made me determined to finish the planned 18--I just couldn't quit because of a little fall.
I'm sure anyone who saw me those last few miles (including several runners) were probably horrified by the looks of the wound. Of course, the wound cleaned up in the shower into a tiny little scrape, but I'm glad that the skin on the knee doesn't seem to feel as much some other areas.