Lately my life seems to be a cycle of falling and healing, with other stuff, including running, thrown in.
There was the horrifying PR period of 2010 when I fell 3 times in 10 days, breaking my hip bone, scapula, two ribs, and tearing my cuff rotator (ouch)… all two weeks before the NYC marathon. First I fell off a treadmill, then, 9 days later I fell twice in the trails in an ultra marathon.
Close to my PR, last October, I fell twice in a month, some notorious shots here, from one of the falls.
Earlier last May, I fell in the trails in Van Cortland park.

But there are way too many to showcase and I don’t have pictures of them all (sometimes I getΒ embarrassed!). I’ve fallen in the briddle path, with or without snow. I’ve fallen in Van Cortland and in every trail ultra I’ve done. I’ve fallen in the pavement, in or out of Central Park. I’ve fallen mid-run in Fifth Avenue, and I’ve fallen just walking down to the movies. Maybe instead I should just list places I have NOT fallen on. Somehow I haven’t fallen on a road race YET. There is obviously something wrong with me.
—-Back to present day.
One run this week and on my way to my second loop of Harlem Hill (I wanted three), I fell again. Floor was not slippery, I didn’t trip, there was not a soul there distracting me, and there was a lot of daylight, which makes this all a bit more disconcerting. I am almost sure at this point that I am “blacking out” for milliseconds that make these constant falls happen. I am almost at a once-a-month average now.
This time, I had just 3 miles in me, and the park was very very lonely. For the first time, there was no one around to pick me up. It is always really hard to get up, and I usually have someone with me who takes care of that. On the other hand, I liked that there was no witness to my disgrace. I just sat and waited out for a couple of minutes until I regained my composure and strength. Then a ninja-runner came out of nowhere and asked me if I was okay. I really wanted to grab my right breast and cry that it hurt so bad, but instead, of course, I said I was ok. He said he’d wait until I got up. I got up, I didn’t want him to freeze standing there (though it was a balmy 27 degrees: summeryeah!) and walked it off. THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT FALLING IN THE WINTER, IS THE LAYERS! So, IΒ thought, I am bruised but it’s just hat. But it REALLYREALLY hurt. My breast hurt right away, a lot, and my knees and my hips were on FIRE.
I figured it was just the adrenaline, tried to calm down, and run back home. When I get home I see it. I had scraped my knee skin through TWO layers, and my hip through THREE layers (tights, pants, and a long blue underarmour Β coldgear shirt-Juan’s- that covers my butt). When I saw that I almost burst into tears. Seriously??? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?
My knees and thigh are sore and swollen but they will be fine. My breast is just painful. It doesn’t seem to be a cracked rib but more of a pectoral tear.
Juan suggested I take up knitting. or Chess.

















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