Some voodoo witch has been sticking needles in our Cape Relay team, like by the van full. We’ve lost two runners to pneumonia (not lost lost; they’re still alive), and then there are the cases of compartment syndrome, knee damage, calf tearing, plantar fasciitis, and treadmill injury.
Guess who falls into that last category.
I’ve covered at least 12,000 miles in my 13 years of running, and Friday was my first treadmill catastrophe. Blame Hulu. I was trying to watch Glee and couldn’t get the site to resolve and while stabbing at my iPad, my left foot drifted over to the platform.
Why is it that a major debacle always seems to come from one little misstep? Henry’s big spelling word for this week was “organism.” That seems awfully risky of Mrs. Sullivan. Two missing letters and…
Well, that’s what stepping on the platform of a treadmill at 7.5 mph looks like.
I flew off the back of the belt, which burned my shin and nailed my whole right side on the way down before I landed on my shoulder. It hurt like a mother ucker. But being a Type A runner, my first thought wasn’t, “Ouch, god dammit!” My first thought was “God dammit, the belt is still going and I don’t know how much mileage will tick up while I’m lying here. How will I know how far I’ve run?”
Not to be defeated by the treadmill, I got back on that bitch and went faster. My shin was burning and throbbing, but I put in 7.5 miles (or thereabouts, I s’pose). I never did get Glee to play. I just stared at the wall, trying to calculate how far the treadmill had run without me.
I spent most of the afternoon standing or climbing up and down a step ladder, and by dinner, I was limping. Not auspicious for running 25 miles in 24 hours next weekend.
I’m hoping for the best and really don’t want to be the 1,497th person to drop from the team, but my shin is still throbbing today. I’m sure my exit from the team would make the voodoo witch very pleased. I admit, it doesn’t say much for my credentials as team Safety Coordinator that I fell off a treadmill, so maybe the team would be better off without me: 11 runners and no Kristina the Klutz.
I have 6 days to seduce my shin into cooperation, so I’m turning on the charm with wine and fancy cheese. My shin likes when I drink wine and eat fancy cheese. And from now on, I will now be running in a helmet and shin guards every time I get on the treadmill, at least if I want to watch Glee.