Last night I was out in Lancaster with Jill, an old university friend who lives up there. On our way out for dinner I slipped on a wet patch of leaves and went crashing to the ground, knees first, in a highly undignified manner. Luckily no one else was around to see me go down, so I didn't have to do the whole 'I'm fine! I meant to do that!' thing that you normally have to do when you fall over in public. Just as well because it was really incredibly painful.For a moment I didn't think I'd be able to get up, and not crying was an effort of iron will. I was absolutely certain that when I looked at my right knee I'd see a bit of bone sticking out, or at least some blood or some other visible sign on injury. Instead, nothing. This is one of those annoying times where it hurts like hell but there's no external sign of injury with which to gross people out.
I thought it very telling that almost my first thought after I fell was 'oh no - this is the end of Juneathon' and I was absolutely gutted at the prospect of not being able to run. Fortunately that's not the case. After sleeping on it it's clear that nothing's broken, it's just bruised. So, Jill and I went out for a gentle run this morning to test things out. It doesn't hurt when walking or running (or at least no more than my knees normally hurt when running) and is only sore to the touch. Kneeling on a wooden floor doesn't feel so great, and I've probably missed my chance of playing for England, but apart from that I'm basically fine. Phew.
We went for half an hour around Lancaster - a really beautiful route. Although Jill lives basically in the city centre you can be out in fields within a few hundred metres of her house, which makes a really nice change from the industrial complexes and housing estates that I generally run through these days. Another social run and a lovely chance to catch up. All's well that ends well.
Day 16 - 4.65k in 30 minutes
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