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Falling on treadmills!

I did it. I finally fell on the treadmill. It’s not something I’m boasting about, it’s just something I’ve always worried I’d do given that I can be a bit klutzy—and I didn’t go down gracefully. At about the two-mile mark of my four-mile run last Tuesday, my bladder was really begging me to take a quick break. To speed up the process and make it to exactly two-miles before taking a break, I sprinted the last two-tenths of the mile, hit stop on the machine, and ran off—excited to get back to the pace I was running pre-bathroom break. (For the past two weeks, I’ve seen myself grow as a runner; as I’m doing these timed miles and interval sprints, I’m learning how to push myself to go a bit faster every day.) As I hurried up and came darting back into the cardio room, I ran right on to that machine, without looking first (I know, who doesn’t look right?), and fell forward just as my two feet hit the moving treadmill. As most people do when it comes to falling on their faces, I shielded mine with my hands and badly scraped my legs on the fall; to stop the pain in my knees, I then placed my arms down on the swiftly moving machine to pick myself up now. And in doing this, I somehow managed to put most of the pressure on my poor left arm, as it felt like it was pulled from it’s socket.

Needless to say, it wasn’t pretty, and in to all hours of the night I was crying with pain. I probably should have listened to my boyfriend, Dino, and let him take me to the hospital to have it checked out, but all I could think about was hearing the news that I wouldn’t be able to run anymore. The next morning, I didn’t need any convincing because the pain was so unbearable I had no choice but to see an orthopedic. I was told I had torn my rotator cuff but the doctor assured me that I would be fine in two weeks and running my half-marathon at the end of March.

What hurt me more was the fact that I couldn’t continue my workouts, not the damaged shoulder I might have to live with. Instead of thinking that I had to let my body heal, I kept seeing myself as a no-show on race day. Many of my coworkers have told me that this isn’t the attitude I should have—that I need to see my body as a precious tool, that without I wouldn’t be able to do everything I aspire to do with it (swimming miles, biking hundreds, running races, etc). I agree, but I’m still so bummed that I'm behind right now! As long as I cross that finish line in March I'll be happy though!


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