When I try to explain what happened in Delaware, I make it clear that I did not fall. Rather, I crumpled. There's a difference. Falling is much more dramatic. Tonight, I fell. It was only the second time I can remember tripping and falling while running. I managed to stay upright when an idiotic lady on a bike clipped me a couple years ago. (She wasn't as fortunate.) The one previous time I went down was while running in Riverside during the winter, when I went off the path to avoid some ice. In the dark, I caught a big root and took a tumble. Tonight's fall was even odder, because it was still light out. For some reason, I misjudged hopping over the same fallen tree in the Bird Sanctuary I jump over every night. After clipping my left foot, I quickly realized I wasn't staying up. What's funny about falling is how quickly you get up. I must have spent no more than 1.5 seconds on the ground before I was up and running, no worse for the wear except some scrapes on my hand, elbow and knee.
4.5 miles, 36:11