I had a good streak going this winter.
"Oh my gosh, you RAN today?" co-workers would gasp on snowy days, telling me of how they had wiped out multiple times while walking the dog that morning.
I'd like to think I was modest about it, acknowledging that yes, it was indeed slippery, and that I'd just been lucky, though my worst spill ever was on dry ground, so go figure.
So it wasn't necessarily with confidence that I set out Saturday night, but it was with a sense of calm.
If only I'd been a jerk runner, I would have gotten the whole three miles in with only a small stutter or two.
But when I noticed a truck with a huge trailer trying to reverse out of a driveway, I decided that running on the sidewalk, instead of the better-maintained street, would be the safest route. Literally within yards, I lost it.
Unfortunately, I don't have any good bruises to share. It hurt the most on the right side of my ribs, and I checked periodically for evidence of my fall, but the only lingering proof is the tenderness when I blow my nose, stretch or laugh too hard.
The good news is, my phone was still alive when I fell, so if anything worse had happened, I could've called for help. Or I could've just asked the gentleman walking his dogs — whose barks either triggered my fall by startling me, or whose barks were mockery after I bit it — to save me.
Maybe next time I should take my chances with dodging the reversing trailer.