As a child, I always enjoyed raspberry season because it meant we got to don semi-protective clothing and attack bushes for a few hours, usually succeeding in eating more than we actually carted home. To this day I am not sure if the term "raspberry" for an abrasion is derived from the injury's similar appearance to said fruit, or the fact that you got 'em when you picked 'em.
Either way, it is a charming term for what can be a less-than-charming injury.
Recognizing that it was too late in the AM, the trail would be too busy, and I had recently tempted the fates by mocking a friend's running injury, Lucy and I took to the trail for a long run on Saturday. She was all over the place; I was tried. Needless to say, when she went for a squirrel the "stop, drop, and roll" that ensued prompted no less than 5 people to ask if I was OK. (Many more people bore witness to the escapade.) Of course I was! I may not be graceful but I'm tough! Lesson learned: Best to run, rather than roll, across gravel. I like to think I added a little interest to their days though.
Miles: 6ish
Trail/the fates: 1
Leah: 0
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