It was drizzling this morning. I should’ve known better.
The sidewalks were s big slippery, that old age of wet leaves bring like I’ve applying to the grit, grime, and muck of city sidewalks mixes with a modicum of water.
Three miles into my run run, my right footfall slipped out from under me. Then my left foot landed only to slip slide out and I was plummeting to the ground.
I fell as one does at an ice rink or a roller skate park. Gracelessly and flailingly.
I landed on my butt with a loud thud. There was no snapping, cracklings, or popping so I don’t think I broke anything. But I’m definitely bruised.
It hurt too much to run The strides were and are still too painful; then as now there’s a constant tension of knotted discomfort even whilst standing still.
I walked ever so slowly and painfully back the three miles to my front door. Each stride of my legs hurting my bum, chastising my stupidity, crushing my soul.
It was still drizzling ever so slightly as I walked, which was a good thing. It obscured my tears of frustration, pain, and hopelessness.