On my run today I think I brought my summer 08 tumble count up to my winter 08 number. The combination of momentum and lack of attention resulted in this being significantly less funny than other recent falls have been. I skinned or otherwise damaged almost my entire right side (with the blessed exception of my face), which combined with the bites all over my right leg from running through the brush yesterday gives me some smoking hot legs. I also jammed two of my fingers in a way that leads me to believe that I subconsciously thought I could break my fall solely with my ring and middle fingers. After shaking it off I proceeded to cry for at least a half mile.
What I have noticed, in my extensive experience of falling, is that the whole time I am going down, right up until I skid to a stop, is that I really believe that I am going to right myself and avoid a tumble. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but I’m going to ice my hand and let you figure it out.
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