Originally published by Runner's World magazine, August 1999

The Fall Gal

By Jennifer Nicholson Graham

They say pride goes before a fall. They're wrong. Pride comes after a fall.... that is, if you fall while running.

I learned this recently while running on an unfamiliar sidewalk at dusk. I was heading down a hill, thinking, "I can really pick up the pace now and ease up when I get to the bottom."

It was a bad decision. As soon as I picked up speed, my foot struck some uneven pavement. I did my best George of the Jungle impression, only I smashed into the sidewalk, not a tree. (A tree would have been more forgiving.) My hands did nothing to break the fall, so my poor face took the brunt of the impact, resulting in a broken nose, busted lip and two black eyes.

But don't cry for me, fellow runners. Two good things came of my misfortune.

First, I was lucky enough to fall in front of the home of a registered nurse, who ran for towels and ice when I staggered, bleeding, to her door. She called my husband, who arrived promptly, gave me Advil and put me to bed. The next day, a plastic surgeon said I would be fine, that the swelling would go down in a week. He told me that, as dumb accidents go, I was lucky ­ only a broken nose and no lost teeth.

But the best result of my accident was that I had a good story to tell. Wherever I went, people wanted to know what happened. And I was more than happy to tell them my injuries occurred while I was running.

Surely there is nothing nobler than to suffer for one's sport. Until then, I'd never had the privilege. Oh, I'd run into a tree once while horseback riding. Broke my nose then, too, and had stitches. But that story paled next to this one. Riding is so boring, so effortless. Running, on the other hand, requires a certain amount of courage and stamina. To break your nose while running ­ that takes a real athlete.

If this seems overwrought, please understand. It's a significant rite of passage for the overweight girl of my youth who was always picked last for teams in P.E. class. It wasn't until I reached my late 20s that I shunned all things sedentary and found a new life in expensive running shoes and long, winding roads. It took a couple of years, but I finally began to see myself as a runner.

Every month, I'd read about common running injuries and how to fix them, but I had nary a shinsplint to repair. On the road, I admired runners with wrapped knees and ankles, huffing along bravely, defiant in the face of pain. Would that ever be me?

Well, the answer remains "probably not." My paltry weekly mileage doesn't bring me repetitive stress injuries. I've never had a shinsplint, twisted ankle or any of the typical runner's ailments. I did have bursitis once and for a while, got to say "my orthopedic surgeon" in casual conversation. But, while painful, my bursitis didn't require any bandages, only painkillers. If I want conspicuous injuries, I guess I'll have to increase my mileage.

At least now I have my nose. "Yep, broke it while running," I can say with pride. Of course, at some point in the tale, I have to admit that, yes, I'm a clumsy oaf.

But hey, I'm a clumsy oaf who runs.