I fell this morning. I was batting along trying my damndest to do my speed intervals properly when I found myself hitting the dirt HARD, luckily not on my injured shoulder! My front tooth (a crown) was pointing the wrong way and I could see blood. I’m not good with blood.
My first reaction was “Pause the friggin’ watch!” My next one was to feel really pathetic and shed a tear or two. Why do I do this? Why don’t I play croquet while sipping on gin and tonics? Or even bowls for that matter – they have fun there! And they don’t fall and bleed unless they’ve had a shitload of drinks.
I then realised that the only way back to the car was on my feet – and, what the hell, I may as well finish the run. And it wasn’t too bad a run either for a bleeding tortoise!
So that is what running teaches me, over and over again. You can always pick yourself up, metaphorically or physically, whatever you may be doing, and CARRY ON!