Along with checking out fireworks yesterday, we also ran in the Palisades Will Rogers 5K & 10K in Pacific Palisades, CA. it’s a challenging course with a very nasty hill at about mile three that goes steadily up for about a mile. It sells itself as a neighborhood run, and encourages families (that means lots of strollers) to run or walk it. The problem is that everybody starts at the same time, so the start gets quite clogged. And even though they use chip timing (so the clock doesn’t start on you until you actually STEP on the starting line), people still feel the need to jostle their way up to the front. Now let’s be honest here: the likely winners are already at the front, so the posers pushing forward are just that – posers.

Anyway, we were well back, not being very concerned with our time and so we were surrounded by a fair number of walkers and strollers, and the odd idiot who decided that they were just too fast for these pokey folks and who was going to by God elbow their way to momentary stardom. I got elbowed by one of these folks and went down on the asphalt not more than fifty yards from the start. I stuck my hands out to catch myself, but went down on my left with my left knee taking the force of the fall and grinding along the pavement for a foot or so. Our friend Perri grabbed my one arm, and another kind soul grabbed the other so I could get up before being trampled. I kept running (not having a lot of choice in the crowd), and was surprised enough that nothing really hurt. I looked down a minute or so later and saw blood oozing down my leg, but it didn’t seem too bad. Chuck, who had headphones on, missed the whole thing. I was feeling a little letdown by that, as a part of me wanted him to go find the miscreant who whacked me and give him a good thumping. Oh well.

I went over to the first aid tent at the end and was ministered to by two no doubt grossly overqualified doctors who mentioned that I was the first adult they had seen all day (their previous patients had been little kids who fell down during the 5K). After much kidding about Barbie band-aids and lollipops for my bravery, I was sent on my way with two band-aids covering the weeping knee and elbow wounds. They were appreciative of my roadside cleanup; I used the aid station water to get rid of most of the grit.

My total injury count: both knees scraped (one badly, one minor), one elbow skinned, and one palm gashed. I woke up today feeling like I’d been hit by a light truck and with a stiff knee. So it goes. Who knew running was a contact sport?