So marathon training starting yesterday morning with a nice 3-mile run. This morning, I faced the same short distance, but with a rather different outcome.

The alarm went off at 4:10am, and David and I got up as quickly as we could, got dressed and headed out the door. It was dark, and without many streetlights, we had a tough time really seeing the road. Since there were few cars (we maybe saw 10 during the 30 minutes we were out), we were able to run in an actual lane of the road–away from the treacherous shoulder.

Somewhere around mile 2, we were approaching a red light where we planned to turn right. We both shifted over to the right in preparation for the turn, but apparently, we shifted too far. I was on the shoulder-side of the lane, and when we moved, my right foot went into a hole between the end of the road and beginning of the shoulder. I had a good bit of momentum going, so I fell pretty hard onto the pavement–catching myself with my hands and knees.

Since my right side was tripped up, the blunt of the fall was felt on my left side. David heard the fall and turned around to help. I sort of laid there for a minute making sure I didn’t break my right ankle. Once I knew it was ok, my brain shifted its pain reception to the other parts of me that got scraped up.

I’ll spare you the details, but my left knee and hand were in pretty nasty shape since when I fell, I slid forward on the pavement. I broke a blood vessel in the bottom of my left palm and had to tie my faithful ole red bandanna over my knee to slow the bleeding.

Then what did I do? Like any good trooper, I finished the run with David at my side. Yeah my hands burned and my knee was throbbing, but I think there’s a little masochist inside of every runner.

I’ve got another 3-miler tomorrow. Should be interesting. This weekend? After our Saturday morning 6-miler, we’re going to buy headlamps. No more skinned knees, please.