I was up kinda late today and my energy levels felt kinda low so I was struggling. This probably set me up for what was to happen 17 minutes after I started running. There were a few runners I met. I passed some and others we met while going on opposite directions.
Anyway, when I was approaching my turning point, my right foot hit a stone sticking out of the ground.
This stone must have waited for years for everything to line up for it so that it can pick an overzealous runner like me on an early morning, take out his footing and watch him crash to the dirt nearby like a giant. And man, crash I did. I lost my footing, and for a spit second, while airborne, I thought I could have a decent fall with my hands touching the ground swiftly before me and pushing myself back up. Like a cat.
That didn't happen. From the way my body was flying in the air, and the angle my hips were twisted in, and the surprise of it, I accepted that I was gonna fall. And fall headlong in a heap like a goddamned sack of potatoes. I accepted that since there were all indications it was inevitable: the gravity, the speed, the angle, the air resistance and my weight - all the variables fit in and a quick calculation showed that my ass was grass and my body and the earth were gonna do a number today. What goes up must come down. Basic Physics, easy as pie. And what goes up fast must come down fast and hard. And so I just put out my right hand to save my head from slamming on the footpath, and I relaxed my body, closed my eyes to protect them from any shrapnel arising from the impact of the crash and I let momentum and gravity do the rest. So I fell really good and my body even travelled on the ground some distance before It ground to a halt gathering all the nearby dirt.
Instead of lying there and processing what just happened to me, and probably making an accusing look at the stone that did it all, I quickly examined my palm as I gathered my floored body and stood up. Thankfully I had no cuts on my palm. And my I am so glad I was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt because the skin of my elbows could have been scrapped off clean. My right hip had hit the ground but there was no problem there.
Bloody hell. I thought and reflexes kicked in and I picked myself up and ambled on. No need to extend an embarrassing moment.
It knocked the wind out of me and that is why I ran for 45 instead of 40 minutes. I can't remember the last time I fell so hard, so completely and so helplessly. I must have been a kid then.
But other runners have fallen too as you can see from the photos. Like Fedor said, it is he who falls that can rise up.
When I told my wife that I fell today, she examined my clothes to confirm it and when she saw the dirt on me, and instead of holding my hand and telling me sorry and asking whether I am okay, she threw her head back and laughed really hard.
The curse of being a runner.