This popped up in my memories this morning.
This time two years ago, I was headed to DC for my first Ragnar.
This time tomorrow, I’m supposed to be headed back to DC for the first Sunset Ragnar.
Instead I’ll probably be mowing and cleaning and drowning my FOMO in beer and college football.
I blame the Christmas Crew.
Because I was messaging with them when it happened.
And also the dogs.
Because they’re the ones that had to go pee. In the dark.
And I couldn’t step away from the conversation while letting the dogs out.
Because y’all know I don’t like to not be a part of things.
So I let the dogs out and then sat down on the porch steps to fully engage in our conversation.
Then stood up to call the dogs back in. While typing a response. Because I have important things to say.
And maybe I forgot that I wasn’t at the bottom of the steps already.
You know how when you just know you’re at the bottom of a set of stairs and you expect your next step to be solid earth, but instead it’s just air and your body tumbling through space…
It wasn’t the fall itself that hurt me. I fall all the time. ALL of the time. For lesser reasons than this.
But my ankle twisted up under me. And my phone went flying across the yard. And the dogs saw me lying on the ground and interpreted that as “PLAY!!” And immediately pounced on top of me. And a 12 year old Rottie mix that struggles just to stand up most days can move at lightening speed when he thinks he’s gonna miss out on the wrestling that the puppy is fully engaged in and my entire world was just a blur of black and brown and white fur for a solid two minutes. As I lay there replaying Fall Risk being gurneyed off of McAfee with two broken ankles. And then panicked because I didn’t have my phone in my hands. And there was an entire conversation happening without me.
So rather than assessing myself, I low crawled through my yard. Hoping not to find the potty spots. With dogs still fully engaged in the pouncing on mama game. Waiting for a new message to come through and light my phone screen up.
Something about Wasena.
And American Ninja Warrior.
Thank goodness I hadn’t missed anything important in the convo.
And by then, I really expected to be fine. I really do fall like that. All. Of. The. Time.
My body can take a fall.
I’m very bendy.
But when I did finally stand up, I could feel my left ankle crackling. Or crunching? I’m not sure what the official term is. Because I’m not going to the doctor. I just know it was a sound that said, “Hey. You probably aren’t gonna wanna run for a while…”
And I’ve got 311-220 coming up. And Pilot Mountain 50k. And Spartan Beast. And Spartan Sprint. And all 50 of the whatever runs Drinkwater is planning. Because I commit to things and then figure out what I’ve committed to later.
I just got that Achilles under control.
And I’m 45.
I’m no longer in charge of my body.
I don’t know exactly what’s happening in there. But she’s calling the shots now. I’m just along for the uncontrollable bladder, hot flashing, raging hormone-filled ride.
I’m just trying to get through my days without saying inappropriate things right now.
So, my Sunset Ragnar ladies are gonna have to take this one on their own.
Which is probably fine. Tiny Brazilian and I were planning to run more than our assigned loops anyway. We need more miles for our Pilot Mountain training. So, she’ll get that by taking over my loops.
I, on the other hand, may roll up into North Carolina next month with zero miles on me and just seeing where the mountains take me.
As long as I have my phone with me. So I don’t miss out on any conversations…