Scrapper's Scar

"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

What a reality check.

My 13 miles today didn't go exactly as planned. One, because it turned out to be 11 miles, and two, because I had a near death experience, which in fact, perpetuated the two-mile chop.

OK, where to even start. Well, the run started out fine. I had a lot on my mind today and was looking forward to the two hours I'd have to sort things out. The fist six-mile loop went well until it sarted to rain on me, but that always seems to happen when I go out to run. I think that I must upset the barometric pressure somehow, it's just ridiculous.

Anyway, so there was rain. Then the rain started to get kind of heavy and the wind picked up. I was surprised that this was happening considering the SNOWSTORM I had to run 20 miles through last weekend! So you see, things were starting to look like a bit of a conspiracy. I thought of my Hemingway quote and just kept going (though I have to admit that I smirked to myself at the idea of the world actually getting riled on account of me).

Then it started to hail.

Yes, I said hail. Little ice balls fell out of the sky at like, 40 mph. I actually laughed out loud because I couldn't believe that it was hailing after the conversation I'd just had in my head about Hemingway and the world and me and my audacity. I was comforted by the idea that I could last longer than a hail storm, and that's exactly what I intended to do.

Then it started to really rain and really hail.

I continued the silly conversation in my head, oh, I see...this is the world's strategy - to give me the crappiest possible weather so that I'll learn to train through it, and all the while it's planning a beautiful and perfect day for the marathon just so that I'm unprepared. That has to be what it has in store... Yep. I had it all figured out.

Then I realized that I sounded psychotic and snapped out of it.

I was about to mile ten when I started to wonder about my time. I checked my watch, and was surprised that my miles were averaging out to be just over 8:40. I will never understand how it's possible that my best times happen in the most horrible weather, it just doesn't make any sense. Maybe I'll get lucky and there will be a tornado or a monsoon or something at each of my races this year.

Anyway, here's where things turned incredibly strange, and my little world-poking game got scary. I was running down the road that led to my house, at this point only about a mile away, and somehow I tripped. I don't understand how this happened because the road was pretty smooth, and I didn't trip over my own two feet (for once).

In an attempt to not fall on my face I began to stumble. Now, what started out as a quick few steps turned into this eight - twelve step disaster that veered right and into traffic! What's weird is that this road is usually empty, but as I stumbled into it I noticed a mini van coming right towards me - fast. All of a sudden it seemed like there was traffic everywhere!

Suddenly I saw the woman behind the wheel of the mini van, which was much closer now, and understood that we both thought that she was going to hit me. Then I was numb and afraid and angry and sad and wishing like hell all at the same time. I didn't care about taking on the world anymore, I just wanted to go home. I honestly thought that this was the end.

Just then my feet ran under me, and before I could even stand up straight I stumbled onto the grass. The van passed and I stopped.

Now I don't know if it was shock or what, but I felt this intense need to be all done with running for today. I walked the rest of that mile home and left the last mile out there on the road. My mind just kept rewindng and replaying the whole thing, and I realized that I'd just been given my Scrapper's Scar.



I'm not ready yet. But I will be.