This week has been rough. It’s my first week back at school after 17 days (!) off and my first week back in training for a major race (Husband and I are doing a Rock ‘n’ Roll Half in March–more on that later). As a result, my sleep schedule has been off as I try to catch up on the work that I should have done over break, but didn’t. Bad, Amber. Bad. In any case, I’ve been getting back into running and have been waking up at 4:00 a.m. to do so. This is slightly brutal after two weeks of a baby alarm clock and naps galore. However, I’ve been in good spirits…except for today. This morning was a disaster.
Everything started out fine. I got up, had my coffee and breakfast and read a little of Gone Girl (excellent book, btw). After my inhaler kicked in (I’m a nerdy exercise asthmatic), I got all of my new running gear together and was just about to head out the door when I heard a horrific yell from Ben’s bedroom. While Husband was still asleep, I hoped for that he would be able to handle Ben’s distress while I went on my run. But, as a mom, I could not leave knowing how upset he was, so I ran upstairs with my headlamp still on. This must have been incredibly distressing to see me with my crazy headlamp, but oh well. After some singing and Husband’s help, Ben calmed down and I went out to try to do a run. Try being the operative word.
Again, I headed out and everything seemed lovely. It has been warm this week, so it was almost pleasant to be out on the road at a quarter after 5:00. I was running along, minding my own business, jamming to some of my tunes (bad!), and about three quarters of a mile in, this sidewalk comes out of nowhere, and down I fall. I swear to you, the sidewalk just jumped out at me. Once I figured out what had happened to me, I looked down and had torn my tights and scraped my knee pretty good. The running gods were telling me that today was not my day, so I decided to head back. When I got home, Husband asked why I had fallen when I have my headlamp. I responded that proper running form dictates that you look straight ahead. That, and I’m clumsy. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day.