Yesterday, I was running with my friends and I fell. And skidded. On my hands. And my right knee. It happened in slow motion and I knew it was going to be bad. And it was. There was blood. I am not ashamed to say, I screamed and yelped. But I didn’t cry.
We were in the final mile of a three mile run, and I wanted to stop. I wanted to cry. I wanted to have a car come and pick me up and take me home. But I didn’t. I checked the damaged; dusted myself off, and continued the run, running.
It wasn’t a question of could I do it; it was would I do it? To be sure, adrenaline kicked in. And I wanted to appear tough in front of my friends. But honestly, all I had to do was chose to continue the run. And I did. All the way to the end.
What are you going to chose to do this evening? This weekend?