Half-marathon trail run this morning, just as a practice for the real half-marathon trail run in two weeks. I love trail running; it's contact improvisation with the earth, but I'm a clumsy dance partner, always wiping out on roots and rocks. So but for these two, I've sworn off trail running until after the marathon in San Francisco, because what will I do with that plane ticket if I'm injured? Figure just doing these two will cut the odds.
Truth is, I'm such a klutz I get injured walking. Like at Disney Fucking World with my daughter, two months ago. And I wasn't drunk. I fell off a curb and heard a bunch of little crunching noises as my foot folded under itself and then I went down. And started screaming curses in the middle of the Magic Fucking Kingdom, in the Town Square, on Main Street. I'm amazed a bunch of evangelicals didn't come throw a net over me and spirit me off to Gitmo for despoiling the atmosphere of the Happiest Fucking Place on Earth.
I could walk, though. Next day, I could run. But it still hurts when I kneel. Hmm.