On Saturday I had a great run with my Team… I covered 14 miles at Red Rock Canyon and felt great. After the run, the team wrapped up, said good-byes and all headed their separate ways. There were just three of us left in the parking lot; our endurance manager, my co-coach/good friend Jimmy and me. We were talking to each other about how things were going with the team when I said, “I have to go.” I started to walk and then plummeted to the ground.
The problem is, I have no recollection of saying that I had to leave. Nor of walking. Nor of falling. I blacked out, solidly and painfully. Right onto my face in a gravel/dirt parking lot.
It wasn’t a pretty picture. I regained consciousness as Jimmy was trying to get some gel in my mouth, I desperately needed sugar. He wet a towel and held it on my bloodied face, helped me into his truck and drove me to his home where he and his wife took care of me. They called my husband, went to retrieve my car with my hubs, fed me, let me get cleaned up, lent me clean clothes, delivered my car to me the following day. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have such good friends in my life.
I went to the hospital later that day. I didn’t need stitches, but I did need a lot of painful scrubbing of my wounds. They checked my blood and found that I was slightly hypoglycemic. I can only imagine how low my blood sugar was earlier that day.
The pathetic thing is that I was foolish, thinking more about everything around me than trying to take care of myself. I ran 14 miles, in the heat, up and down steep hills WITHOUT fuel. Sure, I had breakfast before I went, but I didn’t consume anything during the run. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Surprisingly enough though, right now I’m doing pretty well emotionally. After my faceplant in Phoenix I was a mess, my mental state was in the toilet. But now, I’m just saying, “Oh well… lesson learned. I’ll take the week off from running, let my wounds heal and pick it up again.” I am in such a better place than I was a year and a half ago.
Yes, I hurt.
Yes, I look an awful mess.
Yes, I’m concerned that my appearance will scare my brother’s small children when I see them tomorrow.
My lip is swollen.
My face is cut up.
My legs and hands are covered in road rash.
My shoulder is oozing.
But I will survive.
And now that I’ve been loquacious enough to have pushed any chances of the photos showing up right when someone lands on this page (proceed with caution) here is what happens when you don’t take care of yourself: