Erin Quinn

I went splat. It wasn’t pretty. I decided to go for a night run in downtown Troy, NY. I was in the post-industrial city to coach a 3-day championship age-group swim meet. Everything went well, but I was exhausted. It had been a busy week leading up to the meet. A pep-rally and team talks and trying to coaching my ultrarunning clients and trying to keep up with my own training as I was getting ready for a big race.

I sat in the hotel room and actually put my running clothes on and then took them off. Not once. But twice. We all face some resistance when it’s time to get out the door to go for that run, but this night, I was really struggling. Do I sleep? Do I run?

I went with the run. Here’s the problem. I didn’t have a headlamp, which goes against all of the advice I would give to my athletes. It was dark. The street lights were on and off and mostly off. I was by myself and going over a million things in my head. To silence all of the noise, I turned on music and even made a goofy video of myself encouraging people to get out and run even when they’re tired. Not five minutes later, while allowing my mind drift to the sounds of an R.E.M. song, I caught the tip of my very worn, running shoe in a small pothole which sent me hurling towards the ground.

I smacked that concrete so hard that the world began to spin and then fade and then next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and so that I was face down on the ground, blood flowing from my hand, my right leg and side in stabbing pain and my phone, flung to the other side of the street, was ringing and vibrating.

It was my daughter, who also coaches with me, calling from the hotel to ask where I was. It took two phone calls for me to crawl over to my phone, all the while doing trying to assess my physical situation.

The only breath I had in me was part wail and part cry which I’m sure was alarming. “Why are you crying?” she asked. “Where are you?”

Where was I? I was bloody and bruised and in a lot of pain but I could walk. That was a good sign. It wasn’t until the next day that I felt like I had a knife plunging in and out of my chest every time I went to breathe. The cuts healed, the bruises formed, my leg was sore and swollen but totally manageable to get around the pool deck. It was my right side, just under my chest that was unbearable.

Every time I cheered or tried to whistle (which I’m terrible at anyway,) or project my voice in the slightest bit (a requirement for a swim coach on a busy, noisy pool deck,) I thought my lungs would puncture. The pain was so sharp and so severe that it kept making me wince and place my hand under my breast.

When I got home, two days later, and got to the urgent care, I learned what I kind of already suspected. I had two broken ribs. Now, it is not lost on me that I have run 3, 200+ mile races this year, that had sections which were nothing less than perilous and mountainous and razor-edged and yet, where do I take the fall? On a dark street in Troy.

Kind of sad. Kind of funny. But laughing, one of my favorite things to do, causes the most pain. Well, I’m sure running would to, but as stubborn and driven as I am, even I could not attempt to run with these displaced ribs.

What did I do? I made a silly video announcing to my followers, all 900 of them on Instagram, that I would not be posting motivational clips of myself running for a bit due to #ribgate. But I did finish uploading the first episode of my new podcast– Start Where You Are Running and Ultrarunning. Episode 1 gets down to the basics, explaining to listeners what an ultramarathon is, how to sign up for one, how to go about choosing the race that is right for them and most importantly, putting something on the calendar so that they are spurred into action. Get the clock ticking and the body moving.

I had to think back to the time BEFORE I was an ultrarunner and all of the questions I had and the things I did not know. That was, and still is , a very long list. I realized two things this past week.

1. Broken ribs hurt like a mo-fo.
2. Recording a podcast is much harder than I thought.

But, like the title of the podcast, Start Where You Are, that’s exactly what I have to tell myself over and over again in every aspect of my life. If we don’t begin, how do we ever get good? I know I have a long way to go in this new audio realm and I also know I’ll get there the way I do in an ultra: one step at a time. The big step has been taken and it is live. I’d love it if you’d give it a listen and a review (only 5 stars are accepted) and pass it along to any friends that you think might like it.

Oh, one more thing. If you have any running or ultrarunning topics that you’d like me to discuss, please comment. I’m going to start with the basics, because I’d love to see more people and particularly more women get out on the trails. Not only women, but women over 50! The trails are waiting for you. There’s a small, but powerful group of women 40, 50, 60 and 70-years of age that are absolute ultra-warriors. It’s never to late to start becoming the person, the runner, or creating the ultra-life that you want! Even with some cracked ribs, you can get there.

—Erin Quinn