World: I did a dumb thing.
A week and a half ago, I tripped over my stupid (, stupid) shoes and landed flat and resoundingly. Most of me – and my electronics, which are not self-healing – survived bruise-free, but my lovely new thermal Kleen Kanteen, made of strong, durable stainless steel, cracked a rib.
You can’t do anything for a cracked rib but dope up on Advil and moan a lot to everyone, so I’ve been assiduously taking that path.
But here’s the other dumb thing I did this week (“other,” ha, would that it was the only, amiright): I ran the Brooklyn Half yesterday because I’ve been excited for weeks and by george I wasn’t going to not get that finisher’s medal to add to my slowly growing collection.
So I’m here to tell you this: you can run a half marathon with a cracked rib, but you’ll probably have to walk a bunch and stop at the med tent for Tylenol.
2:09. My slowest half to date, but all I could think as I jogged down Ocean Parkway to the Coney Island Boardwalk was “this week, finishing is the victory.”