are you sure it wasn't brews then bridges?

I've run across dozens of bridges in my running career. Footpaths over Lake Shore Drive, bridges over the Chicago River, even icy crossings constructed from two-by-fours and love. Never have I fallen. Until Sunday. I went down hard, thinking "MY FACE!" the whole time. Ugh.

Now, I haven't been doing much running in the past several months. After our failed attempt to train for a marathon in one of the hottest summers on record in Chicago (luckily derailed by moving three time zones away), I was pretty sick of running. I took a break. For half a year. Yes, I grew a little beer belly. I did hike, and walk, and run on occasion, just not more than three or four miles at a time. I bought some little weights and did OnDemand workouts. Then we got the brilliant idea to sign up for the Bridge to Brews 10K, and we didn't train for it. Needless to say I was pretty nervous about running, but I've been yoga-ing, so my core strength felt good. And my aches and pains earned by a few years on the pavement seemed eased. I figured I could at least finish, even if it wouldn't be pretty. Plus, we paid good money!

I don't know if you were aware of this, but Chicago is flatter than a pancake. I grew up in flipping KANSAS and I think Chicago is flat. Not one damn hill. Portland, on the other hand, is the city of hills (actually roses, but I say hills). Knowing the change in elevation would be a struggle for me, I started off slowly and sent the hubs to run ahead at his own pace. He looked really unhappy when a 9-year-old zipped by us, so I sent him on his way. Approximately 45 seconds after he left me, crossing the Fremont Bridge, and I planted my left foot on a grate, caught my right toe on a bolt, and went straight down.

The good news: I only got stepped on once, nothing was broken, and I landed on my butt before my hands! The bad news: My PRIDE was injured, and if I had not fallen, I would have finished in my best per-mile race pace ever (sub-9:30... fast for this slowpoke). Oh, and at yoga yesterday, a girl recognized me as "the girl who fell on the bridge, we wondered if you finished!" Yes, yes I did. Just call me tougher than I look but still whiny. And really angry about that time! Dare I sign up for another race.... ?

Hiking hiatus.

See those toes? (Sorry people who hate feet, and sorry everyone for making you look at my ugly feet. At least I used Hipstamatic to gussy them up a little.) I touched those toes today. Actually, I sat down, leaned forward, hooked my fingers over my big toes, straightened my knees COMPLETELY, and lifted my heels off of the ground. Yeah. I touched my toes!

Probably not a huge deal to most of the population, but I've never been flexible. I always had one of the worst scores on the sit-and-reach test in gym. I've never done the splits. My toe-touches stunk. In the interest of gaining some flexibility, strengthening my core, and working out some running ouchies, I thought I'd try yoga.  So today I attended my fourth Bikram class in the past week, and I smiled during class, and I touched my toes! It's been raining excessively, even for Portland, and chilly, so I thought a beginner's month of yoga would give me something to do and maybe lift my spirits. Some days, it has been awful. But the other two! I've felt great, considering that it's hell, and I've impressed myself in the process.

I could get hooked on this... if I stay unemployed, and if it were always as affordable as the intro special. Maybe it will stick! I sure like touching my toes.

Oh, the color on those cod-white dogs is Siberian Nights by OPI. One of my favorite colors ever. It's a deep, dark purple. I know when the instructor says "pull those goth toenails higher!" she's talking to me. Love it!