“There are landmines. Landmines everywhere.” Since falling and breaking my wrist last summer, 14 miles into a 15-mile Catskills run, this has been my mantra.
Whether it’s the recovery portion of an interval workout, or the last mile out of the woods, it’s that last bit — you’ve done the big peaks, gone over the big rock ledges without drama. That last bit where I think, it’s all over but the shouting, and I fail to pay attention and BAM, a catastrophic fall.
After running in the Catskills over Memorial Day, I’ve laid low. When my esteemed editor asked if I might have any more tricks up my sleeve, I replied, right hip is really tight and right knee is acting up. NG. The summer has pretty much been a conservative approach, close to home.
