Last night, I reached down to turn off the space heater I use to make my room toasty before I go to bed. As I stood up, I clonked my head on a corner of the door jamb. I screamed. and my son called out from the other room: “Are you OK?”
“NO!” I yelled back. “Could you bring me some ice?”
He did, bless him, and I kept it on my non-bleeding (thank you, Lord) wound all night. I slept quite well, actually. But when I woke up, I started thinking, “Oh my gosh. What if I have a concussion? What if (remembering what had happened to the youngest son of my friend Laura) I can’t look at a screen or read or exercise?”
Then I realized my head really didn’t hurt. But wisely, I think, I also figured if I was going to run (which I kinda thought I’d end up doing) I needed to take it easy.
So I did a run/walk ratio, running (rather slowly) for three minutes and walking for one. I do a two-minute-run-30-second-walk once or twice a week, but haven’t done the walk-for-a-minute part in eons.
Off I went, around the block a few times at first (just in case, well, you know, I started seeing double and feeling woozy and wanted to make sure I remembered which house was mine). But the longer I ran (and walked) the more confident I felt.
I finished in a decent amount of time, much slower than usual but I really didn’t care. I was happy to have run, happy to have listened to body (specifically the lump near my hairline) happy I didn’t conk out and forget my name.
For those, and for oh-so-much more, The Grateful Runner says thank you.