As I sat at the kitchen table this morning getting ready for my run, I picked up my phone and surfed the Internet. I quickly realized that I was delaying my run, not because I didn't want it to start but because I didn't want it to end. This was my last workout at the end of 18 weeks of training for this year's Wine and Dine half. It was 18 grouling weeks through a typical hot and humid FL summer. I ran through injury and heat and came out stronger.
The weather was perfect. 50 degrees with a slight breeze. I walked to the front of my neighborhood, stretched, and found my favorite Indie Soup Runner podcast. I started running before I started my watch. My legs just started going before my brain kicked in.
I was cruising along at quick but comfortable pace thinking about how perfectly every was going on this last run before my race. Then SMACK! Reality hit me in the face in the form of a crack in the sidewalk. My toe hit in just the perfect spot (perfectly WRONG!). Before I knew what happened my palms were hitting the ground. I quickly spotted the grass next to me, tucked my left shoulder, and rolled onto the ground. As I fell, 18 weeks of running flashed before my eyes. I imagined a broken wrist, torn ACLU, broken leg, skinned knees, but escaped them all, finished my roll, bounced up, and resumed my run.
I had run the same stretch of pavement at least a hundred times without incident. I haven't even almost tripped while running in over a year. I have run through stretches of near total darkness and done trail runs through rough terrain and didn't have a significant stumble. Then my toe meets one crack and it could have been disaster.
Thank God! Disaster averted!
Great run. Easy 8:38 pace. Dialed in my race pace for Saturday. I'm going to stick with 8:45 for as long as I can and if I speed up, so be it.