Humpty Dumpty Had a Great Fall

During our extended stay here at home in Datil, we have done a lot of running. We run about 5 miles every other day, running early in the morning during the heat of summer and late afternoon in the cold winter snow and ice. We have been here long enough and run often enough that we have cut our own trail through the woods from our property to the border fence of the BLM lands and across the BLM lands to the official Datil Well trails. A gentleman always helps a lady through the barbed wire fence.

Jim is one of those crazy people who loves to run. Lily also loves to run. Me…not so much. I run to stay fit and healthy. I run because I love to eat. Jim and Lily are internally motivated to run, and their motivation draws me into running along. I must admit, however, that we do have a beautiful place to run here with some spectacular views. Let me show you…

We always stop at Rocky Point to take in the views and snap a few pics to send to Granny.

We all try to stay hydrated on our high-desert run

We recently followed a game trail that led to a wildlife water tank. We added that loop to our regular route because it is a fun place to look for tracks and scat to see who comes there for a drink--it seems to be quite a popular spot for the coyotes.

Running does not come natural for me. I have spent too much time twirling across hardwood floors—which incidentally are flat level surfaces, free of obstructions, and are indoors. That is where I am most comfortable, balanced, and fleet of feet. How I became an outdoorsy type is a mystery to even me. I struggle with dirt and bugs. I easily get too hot or too cold. And if I don’t keep my eyes on the ground in front of me, I frequently trip and stumble about. Jim blames it on my feet which point outward instead of straight ahead, (again, too many years of ballet). Try as I might, and I have focused on pointing my toes forward when I run or hike, I just can’t get them to do it naturally or without a great deal of concentration. As a result, and in spite of my best effort to avoid, I do my fair share of stumbling and sometimes fall.

Even on a good day…it was mid-morning in mid-January of a pleasant day. There was no snow or ice on the trail to speak of. We were nearing the home stretch of our run, but I was feeling good so we decided to stretch it out and run a little farther. It wasn’t much later while powering up a rocky uphill slope when my toe grabbed onto something and I started that slow motion stumbling attempt to recover my balance. This time I was unsuccessful and went down hard, head first, onto a rock. I felt the rattle in my skull and was aware of the pain as I grabbed my head and got up. I think I was in a little bit of a shock state and did not realize that I was bleeding. Jim was running right behind me and knew that it was not good based on the sound he heard as my skull made contact with the rock. He made me sit back down to assess the situation. After letting me know I was bleeding, we argued for a moment because he wanted me to move my hands to let him see and put some pressure to stop the bleeding. I was afraid he was going to make it hurt more and wouldn’t let him near it. We finally agreed that he would give me his running glove to soak up some of the blood and I would apply my own direct pressure.

Once I was ready to get up, we still had to get home (we were about 4 miles away by trail). We decided (well, Jim decided, I argued about the increased difficulty), to bushwhack through the woods to get home as the crow flies which would be much closer. It took us about an hour—a long and increasingly cold and painful hour as my adrenalin wore off, to get back home. Once we got home and I cleaned up, we had another decision to make. From past experience we knew that the closest clinic (40 miles away), does not do stitches, so if we would have to go to the emergency room (67 miles away), for medical attention. And going to the emergency room would likely take all day. I had some butterfly bandages at home, so I decided to take care of it myself. I waited until the swelling went down so that I could get the skin to close up, applied 3 butterfly bandages, and covered the whole thing with gauze. There were some headaches for a time. And my whole body felt like I had fallen down the mountain hitting every rock along the way. I apologize: these pictures are not for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach.

Turns out my head healed faster than the rest of me did (there’s a hard headed joke in there somewhere). It took just under two months before I was able to go running again. Turns out I was more prepared to run physically than mentally. It was interesting to me how afraid of running I was, or more accurately how afraid of falling I was. Even to this day the fall changed the way I run. Firstly, I am much, much slower (not that I was ever a speed demon), and don’t really push for speed, especially uphill. I run intentionally slow. Also, I focus on the trail in front of my so I know exactly what to expect under my feet, no more looking around or checking out the scenery. Another change is my form. Typically, when I ran, I focused my energy forward reaching out with my front foot and pushing forward with my back, trying not to waste any energy. Now, I try to lift up my knees and focus my energy upward trying to keep my feet underneath me (concentrating on toes forward), trying to make sure to clear any obstacles that may catch a toe. Think of Winnie the Pooh’s Tigger (if Tigger was in a marching band), all the bouncing up and down while marching with knees high, only with the energy and attitude more akin to Eeyore (yeah, I’m not an enthusiastic runner). I’m sure I look ridiculous. However, I haven’t had another fall, or even a close call…knock wood!