Day 3 -- You've Really Got to Watch Out for Those Grocery Store Injuries

Today's adventure in becoming a runner was mostly uneventful.  My plan, since it was kind of cold and drizzly, was to go to the church and run around on the nice upstairs track that encircles the basketball courts.  The boys wanted to go with me, so we piled into my nerd wagon and off we went.

It was a great plan except for the part when we pulled into the parking lot and realized that the gym isn't open on Sunday afternoons.  You'd think I would've checked on this yesterday when we were there for our older son's basketball game, but it never occurred to me that the church gym would be closed today.  I really should pay more attention...  And I really should've used the church gym before now...

Any-old-hoo.  I went to plan B, which was simply to brave the elements and run outside.  Our older son decided that he'd rather stay at home than plod around in 40-degree weather that might see rain, so he wished me luck and settled himself under a blanket on the couch with  his dad for a little football.  Our younger son, who is five, decided that it was up to him to keep me company.  And if we just happened to go to the nearby park, which has a nice little walking path around it, even better.

So that's what we did.  I staggered around in circles while he played on the swings and slides.  (By the way, I've decided that it is biologically impossible for five-year-olds to NOT jump in, kneel in, slide into, or sit in puddles.  Because that is what he did for 30 solid minutes, and I must say that he had a fine old time doing it.)

When the lady on my app told me that it was time to cool down with the last five minutes of walking, we started for home and by the time we got to our front door, I was done.  The little fellow and I both changed our clothes, he joined his brother and daddy, and I went on my merry way to the grocery store.

Now, when I started this program many moons ago last week, I knew that I might sustain an injury here and there.  It's just part of it.  No matter how many stretches and warm-ups and cool-downs I do, I'm bound to hurt something at some point.  I expect it, at some point, from running.

But from Kroger?

I have to admit.  I never saw this one coming.

Now, let me be the first to say that no one has ever accused me of being graceful.  Or particularly attentive to my surroundings, or the least bit coordinated, for that matter.  I mean, I have injured myself in some pretty embarrassing ways.

For instance, during a high school homecoming parade in which I was riding on the back of a convertible, I managed, somehow, to roll right off into the street while the car was at a complete stop.  I'm still not sure how it happened, but I had some pretty nice bumps and bruises to show for it.

Then there was the time when my mom and I were at the food court in the mall and, while I was carrying our tray, I missed a step down into the dining area and dropped to the floor, spraining my ankle (but not spilling the first bit of food, thank-you-very-much).

And my favorite was a few years ago when the toe of my shoe caught the edge of the top step of our front porch and I went barreling into the front door, bruising my kneecap and blackening my eye.

But, until today, I have managed to never have a grocery-related injury.

It went something like this.

We were out of peanut butter, and that is a mighty big deal around our house because it's one of about six things we can count on the five-year-old to eat.  As I reached down to get the twin pack of Jiff off the bottom shelf, I managed to drop my pen, which rolled about halfway into the aisle behind me.  So I grabbed the peanut butter with one hand and turned ever so slightly to pick up the pen with my other hand, and that's when I felt it.  The tiniest little twinge waaaaay over to the left in my lower back.

Okay, in all honesty, the twinge wasn't so little.  It was more like kind of sharp.  I may have staggered sideways a little bit.  Or, perhaps, all the way across the aisle.  One of the shelves may have broken my fall.  And about 427 a few boxes of Frosted Mini-Wheats might have fallen to the floor.  I very well could've said hell-damn right out loud.  I don't really know.  It's all kind of a blur.

At any rate, I got myself together, gathered the rest of the things on my list (and tried like the devil to find a brand new bottle of PRIDE...with no luck...) and came home, a little worse for the wear.

I suppose now I'll have to start stretching before going to the grocery store.  Goodness knows, it couldn't hurt.