For this edition of Question of the Week, each FBG is recounting her most embarrassing moment when it comes to working out. Buckle up…these should be fun!
I like to tell myself that my most embarrassing fitness moment isn’t exactly unique. That every runner trips—HARD—at one time or another during training. After all, when you’re preparing for a marathon, you run oh-so many miles. You’re likely to misstep eventually, right?
I probably trip almost every single time I run outside. Whether it’s on a trail or around my neighborhood, I sometimes get so into the groove of running and jamming to my favorite workout tunes that I apparently lose control of my muscles or, more likely, my surroundings become less clear to me. And trip I do. Boom. Usually, I do that really awkward falling thing where your arms jut out and your face goes all wonky and you make that weird scream/embarrassed-laugh sound. And then, just before face-planting, I catch my balance, take a quick look around to see if anyone saw my spaz-out and get on with my run, face red from the embarrassment (even if no one is around, my own clumsiness is embarrassing to me most days).
But, I don’t always catch myself. Like was the case with My Most Embarrassing Fitness Moment Ever. About half a mile into an 18-mile marathon-training run, I was already SO into the running groove and feeling great. The weather was beautiful, and I was super happy to be out running in it. And then, suddenly, my toe clipped an uneven sidewalk and without me even having time to do my usual spaz-out, I was down.
And I hit hard, folks. Although I somehow avoided total face-plant, my knees took the brunt of the fall and were all scraped up and bleeding. It apparently looked bad enough—and here’s where this fall becomes My Most Embarrassing Fitness Moment Ever—that a guy driving by in a giant red truck (the fact that he’s in a truck really has nothing to do with the story, but it’s one of those little details that I remember super well for some reason) screeched to a halt in the middle of the street and jumped out to make sure I was okay. Like, I didn’t-need-to-go-to-the-hospital okay. Of course, in the commotion, other cars stopped to gawk, too.
Now that’s embarrassing.
I told him that I was just a little scraped up, and was fine. I was just going to, you know, go ahead and run the rest of my 17.5 miles. And that I did, swollen knee, stinging sensation, little bit of blood and all. Because I’m apparently too proud to run home for a Band-Aid. Or let a big dude in a red truck know that “Ouch, mo-fo that HURT.”
While I doubt many of you have stopped traffic because of a misstep, please tell me I’m not the only one who has trouble running outdoors… —Jenn