My hands are a little achy as I sit here writing this post.

Yesterday, I took a spill while running, the first time I fell like that in more than a decade. My hands, thigh, and knees are scraped. Although it could have been a lot worse, I’ll spare you the pictures.

Thankfully, my husband, Jonathan was with me. Usually we don’t run together, for several reasons, one of those being that he is faster than me. But, he’s tapering for his first triathlon next weekend, so he was okay going my speed.

I wish I had a better story behind my fall, like a coyote darted out from the woods, or I was being chased by zombies, or I tripped over a pot of gold! The less thrilling truth is I landed on my right foot wrong and tripped over absolutely nothing. (Story of my life.)

As I laid there evaluating my body and thinking what to do next, Jonathan asked if I was okay and helped me up. We jogged back home to clean my wounds and then we went right back out to finish our seven mile run.

I don’t think I would have completed the run if I didn’t have someone with me. I probably would have laid on the ground longer, feeling sorry for myself, and eventually made my way home to sulk, assuming I didn’t get hit by a car or was eaten by wolves.

A running partner keeps you safe when you’re in danger; picks you up when you’re down; motivates you when you’re unmotivated. I’m incredibly grateful that Jonathan was with me and will value the moments we get to run together in the future a lot more.

Conveniently, today is a rest day. It’s time for me to recharge and get ready to go back out on the roads tomorrow.

As they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.