"...but they don't fall down."
I survived my first near-fall of the season tonight. Barely.
I was just past of the halfway point of my four-mile maintenance run -- my first after-dark run of the season, incidentally -- when it happened. My left foot veered off the hard-packed snow on the trail and landed on the pavement. Except it wasn't just pavement under my footfall. It was some greasy snow/slush/ice combination that my headlamp didn't detect as a ran around a curve.
Suddenly, an otherwise routine run turned into an adventure, albeit momentarily.
My left foot skidded across the ground, the rest of the attached leg hovering above its path. Reflexively, my hip locked, my back arched and I threw my right arm out amid the cold, thick, December air. Somehow, I managed to catch myself, not unlike a nimble halfback running wide left before quickly correcting his course to surge forward toward the end zone pylon.
I survived the slip in deft fashion, thanks to my equilibrium and quick-responding muscles. Penguins have nothing on me. I was built to survive these conditions. I have a touch of Weeble Wobble to me. My flat feet, ample hips and lack of vertical stature keep me keenly prepared for ill footing. Even when I don't see it coming.
So what if I wasn't so graceful in staying upright? No one was present to judge my solitary movements and deduct cool points from me. It was too dark to see anyway. Only an inquisitive owl tall in the trees saw what had happened. Or nearly happened. And the owl wasn't nearly as concerned with what happened or how it happened as it was with who was involved.
The episode startled me. I had been running for 18 minutes with nary a thought about precarious footing. Now, in the wake of my near-fall, I became obsessed with whatever might or might not be under my feet.
My body tightened throughout the rest of my run. My legs and hips remained poised to defend against any similar encounters with a slick surface. It hampered my time, not to mention the mental and physical enjoyment I typically garner from my runs. But I survived unscathed.
Score one for the runner with a good sense of balance.
I was just past of the halfway point of my four-mile maintenance run -- my first after-dark run of the season, incidentally -- when it happened. My left foot veered off the hard-packed snow on the trail and landed on the pavement. Except it wasn't just pavement under my footfall. It was some greasy snow/slush/ice combination that my headlamp didn't detect as a ran around a curve.
Suddenly, an otherwise routine run turned into an adventure, albeit momentarily.
My left foot skidded across the ground, the rest of the attached leg hovering above its path. Reflexively, my hip locked, my back arched and I threw my right arm out amid the cold, thick, December air. Somehow, I managed to catch myself, not unlike a nimble halfback running wide left before quickly correcting his course to surge forward toward the end zone pylon.
I survived the slip in deft fashion, thanks to my equilibrium and quick-responding muscles. Penguins have nothing on me. I was built to survive these conditions. I have a touch of Weeble Wobble to me. My flat feet, ample hips and lack of vertical stature keep me keenly prepared for ill footing. Even when I don't see it coming.
So what if I wasn't so graceful in staying upright? No one was present to judge my solitary movements and deduct cool points from me. It was too dark to see anyway. Only an inquisitive owl tall in the trees saw what had happened. Or nearly happened. And the owl wasn't nearly as concerned with what happened or how it happened as it was with who was involved.
The episode startled me. I had been running for 18 minutes with nary a thought about precarious footing. Now, in the wake of my near-fall, I became obsessed with whatever might or might not be under my feet.
My body tightened throughout the rest of my run. My legs and hips remained poised to defend against any similar encounters with a slick surface. It hampered my time, not to mention the mental and physical enjoyment I typically garner from my runs. But I survived unscathed.
Score one for the runner with a good sense of balance.
posted by RTG at 3:37 PM
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