This probably depends on how loud he screams and/or swears during the falling process and if the runner gets buried by leaves before anyone comes on the same trail. What if a runner falls after running fast from a flat canal path trail through a small parking lot near the main village thoroughfare and attempting to turn onto the sidewalk? Will anyone notice?
It turns out if the fall is spectacular enough traffic will stop, presumably to see if the runner is okay, maybe also to laugh a bit? It was an unnaturally warm Christmas Eve morning for upstate NY, t-shirt running weather. A strong west wind made for a challenging two miles out (at least for me, the two young college girls gliding past me on the path didn't seem to have an issue) before turning around for a much faster return. After fighting some tendinitis in my left knee and taking many days off from running it felt good to pick up the pace with the wind at my back.
I was about one hundred yards from an even four miles when I made the decision to continue through the parking lot and down the sidewalk to get in a nice last mile. Sometimes being a bit anal about running a precise distance is not a good choice. In the days of yore, before Garmins, I would have stopped by my truck and called it four miles, happy to be done and feeling good. Two strides before the turn I remember thinking, "don't fall". Why would that even enter my mind at the time is strange. There was no snow, the sidewalk was dry, why would falling be a concern?
I took a step onto the small grass patch to get onto the sidewalk quicker. As soon as my left foot hit the ground I began flying through the air in my best Superman pose. It's a bit of a blur, but I believe I bounced off my left knee (the one recovering from tendinitis) on the sidewalk and definitely gouged my right hand. I rolled a couple of times hoping this would cushion the blow a bit (at least this is what I'm telling myself, it may just have been part of the falling process). I'm not sure what words came out of my mouth, but it's possible one sounded similar to fudge, which seems to be my go-to word in situations like this.
As I was laying on my back wondering what the fudge just happened I saw cars stopped on the road and knew I had to get up rather quickly, not wanting to cause more of a scene. I stumbled to the truck to find a rag to stop the blood just as Jan came walking across the bridge to begin her run. She was concerned but, alas, not surprised. Falling seems to have become a habit for me.
A week later, still not running due to the self-diagnosed knee sprain, I can finally pedal in an easy gear in the safety of my basement on my bike, taking care not to fall as I clip in and out of the pedals.
I can't wait until winter really arrives, my running will be a shuffle as I fear the fall!
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