Bonus Points for Clutziness? Check.

I started running the other week. I don't want to brag or anything, but I'm up to running a full 90 seconds at a clip already. That Couch To 5K program is a winner, let me tell you. Before beginning that, I was definitely on the couch end of the C25K scale. I'm obviously still fairly entrenched in that couch at this point (I've ran a total of 5 times) but I think it's safe to say that I've managed to swing one leg over the side of the sofa at least.

My nephew runs track. He's pretty stellar at what he does. He ran the mile in 4 minutes and 56 seconds on his last meet, shaving a good bit of time off his previous record. He also runs the 3 mile race. It boggles my mind since I can't actually run from the kitchen to the bathroom without being out of breath. (See above, where I'm firmly entrenched on the couch. Swinging that leg over the side is taking effort on my part. I'm THAT out of shape.)

This evening the nephew asked me to go running with him, and I just laughed. He runs 3 miles without stopping, and I can barely run for 90 seconds without collapsing into a heap of "please just let me die-ness." But he promised to teach me proper stretching techniques, proper running form, and how to pace myself for distance running safely. It's been a few days since I ran and I needed the exercise, so I agreed. Who wouldn't, when a free coach is involved?

May it be noted that I've never run anywhere but my treadmill before. Running on the road, up and down hills (one can't even navigate our driveway without encountering a hill here in the mountains), and being at the mercy of traffic was all new to me. Turns out, running on the road is a bit more fun than the incredibly boring treadmill. Also turns out that I have no pride left. That's what birthing 4 children will do to you. Those 4 children will wreak havoc with your bladder, and wetting yourself in public on occasion will strip any last bit of pride that you've got right from your psyche. You're left with pretty much nothing to shame yourself with, and that's not always a good thing. Like tonight. I probably should have wore a pad and not a panty liner. I know by the end of the run I had a growing wet spot in my crotch area.

See? No pride. No worries, though. I had a long shirt on. Also, by the time that happened, the cars driving by weren't even noticing that spot.  Trust me.

So I was incredibly proud of myself for running out in public tonight. We were almost back at the house and I didn't feel as though I'd died a mile back. So much awesome right there. Except that small wet spot. And then we passed the old school house at the end of our road. The nephew has been helping the owners renovate it, and asked if I'd seen the inside of it yet. I had not, and was very curious to see it. My dad went to school in that same school house way back in his elementary years. I've been dying to see inside that cute little building for decades.

This was my chance! The nephew opened the door and walked in, and I followed right behind. Just inside the door to the left was a room full of stuff, and I was curious to see All.The.Things because this was my chance in over 4 decades of Wanting To See. I didn't want to miss a thing. I looked to the left to get a feel for the size of that room, and to see what was in it, and wonder at what point that room was added or if it was there when dad went to school. And then I fell through the floor because right inside the door, the flooring was torn up and the floor joists were exposed. In my attempt to look at All.The.Things, I failed to look where I was walking.

Have I mentioned that I am a Grade A clutz? Yes. I am. If clutziness is graded, I'd get bonus points, making my grade somewhere around the 120% mark. I rock clutziness. Tonight I gained more bonus points. My grade is now about 132%. My left shin is skinned up rather nicely, but it's the right one that boasts the trophy of clutziness. The hunk of meat torn right out of my shin is kind of impressive, and the flow of blood was described as gushing by the boys that were with me. I just know that my sock and shoe were soaked in blood in a matter of 10 seconds, and I was dripping all over the floor of a house that I don't own. We were all wearing ankle high socks, so there was nothing for a tourniquet. I appreciate the nephew, who graciously offered his sweaty shirt to stem the flow of blood. This is especially impressive since the boy gags and heaves at the sight of all things borderline unpleasant.

See? I told you the passing vehicles weren't focused on the small wet spot on my pants. The large black shirt tied around my shin was rather eye-catching.

Tonight, I am so very grateful for leftover Tylenol with Codeine from that double ear infection I had a few weeks back. All hail pain meds. I just wish I knew what pain was from running and what is from my incompetence in walking. I do know, however, that running will probably be on hold for a week. And I was making such progress.