Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone! I hope you rocked your races this weekend. I had too much going on with the Angry Toddler to race this weekend, but I did get in a good six-mile run outside on Sunday. I was not in the mood at first, because I had gone out to brunch that morning, visited Tom’s parents, then came forty minutes home (read: I was exhausted), but I knew I just had to get it in. Mentally I had planned to do six, but as I started, I really was just glad that I got out at all. It was about forty-one degrees out and very windy. I don’t have any cold-weather running gear, so I grabbed a vest to put over my long-sleeved shirt.
Apparently, I’m also “that lady who falls a lot.” This has only happened twice since I started running outside again, but it’s wicked embarrassing. I’m usually running along, deep in thought thinking, “Man, I’m kind of mindlessly running. I don’t feel any pain, I haven’t tripped on any uneven sidewalks yet . . . ” and then BAM. I go down. It never fails that there’s some kind soul on the other side of the street who sees me too and asks if I’m OK. I’m grateful for them, but I also feel like a loon. Who falls this much?! Please tell me I’m not alone!
Happy running today! I have to get my miles in on the treadmill, since we got five to six inches of light, fluffy snow here in Delaware. The treadmill is better than nothing, right?!