by stephancox

So picture this: You’ve been training hardcore for the New York marathon, which is only a month and change away. You’ve just completed most of your 8 mile Wednesday run, which takes you around the loop in Central Park. You’re feeling good, kicking ass, and then for some reason, you decide to sprint the rest of the way home. At 5 PM. In New York. When the sidewalks are almost hilariously crowded. But you’re doing it. You’re managing to dodge pedestrian after pedestrian, going full tilt. And then…

You see where this is going.

I’m heading down East 39th street, almost home, and I go to pass this woman on the sidewalk. For whatever reason, at the last second, she cuts in front of me. So I attempt to jump over a large stack of boxes to her left, but my foot gets caught. And… you know that moment when you realize that you’re going down but you can’t do a damn thing to stop it? Yep. I’m just about horizontal in the air when I slam my left shoulder square into a tree. Hard. Like, if this had been a cartoon and the tree had apples in it, they would have all fallen on me. Also, I jammed my shin onto the wrought iron trellis they surround trees with in the city to keep the dogs from crapping on them.

Now, I’m not saying this was this woman’s fault. She couldn’t have seen me coming. But right next to her, in full view, I just had a spectacular wipeout. But, in true New York fashion, she just kept walking. Didn’t stop to see if I had, say, punctured my spleen or anything. Viva NYC!

Anyway, I made it home, took a handful of Alieve, strapped some ice bags on, and decided to wait and see. Most of us have had broken bones, so we know what it feels like, ie, that sharp, shooting pain, tender to the touch, etc. But after a rather uncomfortable night’s sleep (did you know you use your shoulder for WAY more than you thought? Like getting in and out of bed? I sure didn’t), I’m up and around today, and I think I’m fracture free. I’m also feeling really, really fortunate that I didn’t hit either my knee or, god forbid, my head.

When I went to bed last night, I was really bummed, because I thought for sure that this whole incident would sideline me from my training, maybe for a month or more, which would make running the marathon in November ill-advised. And maybe it’s the Alieve talking, but I feel relatively confident I’ll be back up and around in a week or so. I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and if you’re curious, I’m also taking photos every day of what are sure to a couple of dazzlingly colorful bruises, so I can chart the progress.

Oh, and I won’t be doing the mud run next weekend. Damn. Was hoping to get one of these items off my list. Oh, well. There’ll be others. It’s not like they’re gonna stop making mud, right?