We've been having some strong wind storms lately and as usual, there are a number of trees down along the trails I run. Two have blown down across this one tricky part that's already hard to navigate. The new obstacles are making the narrow path even harder to get through, to the point I got cut today trying to get around some branches.
Now, it wasn't bad, but damn, did it bleed. I mean dripping down my leg, looked like I'd undergone a partial amputation kind of bleed.
I kept going. When you're three and half miles out, there's only one way to get back. And again, it didn't hurt that bad. I saw a few people once I reached the streets again, and they all looked at me like I'd come back from battle. I smiled... yeah, you feel a bit supermanish when you're running along, dried blood streaked down your leg, every inch of you covered in mud and sweat. It's like you earned your place on the earth...fought the good fight so to speak.
I get home, jump in the shower and all's good. When I get out, I'm all prepared to bandage this more than worthy injury only to look down and wonder where in the hell my injury went...yup, nothing more than a couple of stupid scratches.
Oh, well, at least for a while I looked tough.