The Bigger They Come, the Harder They Fall

I bit the dust during my Monday morning run. Hard. Happy Fourth of July to me.

It was a quick, easy little out-and-back run from my house with my friends along a route I've run countless times before. But my mind was wandering, and I wasn't watching the treacherously warped sidewalk in front of me. I caught my toe and stumbled for a good three or four steps before I decided to just take it. And I did. My left knee caught the brunt of it leaving behind two Sacagawea-dollar sized concrete burns that have since started scabbing over. Lovely. Once the adrenaline wore off, it started to hurt "bad, real bad, Michael Jackson" and I was "mad, real mad, Joe Jackson" (name that tune). But, I'm proud to say I finished my run, and we hadn't even reached the turnaround point yet!

In other news, I went to the local running store the other day and bought some pepper spray to put on my key ring. They sell refills, apparently, for the little canister. I hope I never have to purchase one.