A few months ago there was a big snow storm coming, they were predicting six to 9 inches of snow and ice on it’s way to Columbus, Ohio by 9am. I opted to not run with the local running group, MIT, and get the miles in early- our group starts at 8 and driving home in a major snow storm is no fun. I pile on the layers- two pairs of pants, a sports bra, a long sleeve shirt, a outer layer, slip on my shoes and super sexy waist belt, my muffler, my headband, and my gloves – dressing for cold weather is serious business!
My plan was to run 6 miles through my neighborhood. Our neighborhood is surrounded by major roadways with no sidewalks so I’m fairly limited in the streets I can run on. I decide to run up the main drag for a mile and a half, back the same mile and a half, then to start looping through my neighborhood.
(On a side note- but I always love to see what people’s turn around point is in their runs. It’s funny. Unless you have a perfectly circular route, there’s always that house that you pivot in front of.)
It’s cold and I refuse to do warm ups because I hate my body apparently, so I start out slow. Hell, I’m ALWAYS slow, but I start out at a nice slow pace anyways. I veeeeeeeeery carefully inch around the giant piles of ice in the gutters as I cross the street, doing the old lady shuffle. I lose myself in my thoughts and am feeling pretty good. I see some black ice and run around it passing by the local chicken joint. I realize I’ve nearly reached my old apartment and glance at my watch. 1.4 miles, awesome. It’s not snowing yet, I keep my eye on the sky as I’m going. I hit mile 1.5 and pivot.
It’s early. Not much traffic. I run by an old lady walking her dog who is friendly and stops to say “That must feel good.”
It does, it’s great. I’m trucking along (at my slow pace.) Once I get home I’ll be at mile 3 and then I just go down to my usual route and get my other three. I’ll be home before Nate has the coffee on.
And then I slip on the aforementioned black ice, fall hard, and completely piss my double layered running tights. Not a little oops I laughed too hard sort of pee, but straight up didn’t-realize-I-needed-to-pee-much-less-pee-THAT-much. So I’m lying there like a wet turtle trying to get my wits about me. I eventually get up, text Nate that I fell down and pissed myself. I send a second text to say I’m not seriously injured.
And I realize I can’t be the only person this terrible at running. There must be someone else who is comically bad at running. When I get home I am cranky and take a hot bath. He brings me some coffee. I search around a little bit on Google and don’t see any stories like mine. And this blog was born.