This was the week my running gained so much momentum I fell over.
It was Wednesday and I was just south of Regent's Park when I lost my footing on the side of a wet pavement. A huge overfilled rucksack rendered my attempts to stay upright futile and I crashed to the floor bonce-first. In fact, I hit the pavement so hard, my head bounced back up again.
As cranium audibly met tarmac, a kind lady ran straight over to help. In retrospect, I think she was more in shock than me. Anyway, I got up, walked for a bit. Then realized I felt fine so ran the remaining two miles or so to work.
I was less fine three hours later when my face resembled a baboon's bottom. At this point, my colleagues dispatched me to hospital where I was poked and x-rayed and, very fortunately, declared fit enough to head home with an A4 sheet on 'caring for minor head injuries'.
And so, my plans to conquer Hampstead Heath parkrun tomorrow may be put on hold. I feel okay and the doc said I could run if I felt like it. But I also have whiplash, so maybe I'll wait and run gently on Sunday. I still can't believe it. I got running gloves for Christmas. Maybe I should've asked for a helmet instead.
(Stats: 5 miles (3 miles - short break as I lay on the floor just north of Baker Street - 2 miles); timewise, not sure, around an hour?)
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