Sunday's long run was hard on my knees.

And my palms.

All of which are now covered with Neosporin and several Band-Aids after taking a nasty dive on a portion of uneven sidewalk on E. 38th Street Sunday afternoon.

I run E. 38th Street every weekend, but I usually do it early in the morning and I run in the street. Sidewalks are dangerous for runners -- first of all, concrete is the hardest surface on earth. If you run them too much you will feel it (in the form of aching in your shins, knees, etc.). Softer surfaces (like asphalt) are gentler. Second, sidewalks are always a tripping hazard. Winters aren't kind to sidewalks in the Erie area -- the freeze and thaw causes the blocks of concrete to pitch, heave, twist, tilt and crack.

We were camping this weekend and never got back until after noon, so when I went for my run at 3 p.m., I did most of it on the sidewalk because of the traffic (motorists are openly hostile toward runners in the street when there's a perfectly good sidewalk 2 feet away).

As is typical for me during a run, I was a million miles away from E. 38th Street daydreaming (I think I was making a mental grocery list) -- when my left toe hit a portion of uneven concrete and I realized I was going to fall.

I tried to save myself and turn a full sidewalk body plant into a stumble, but I went down too fast.

Slam ... in a split-second, I was on all fours skidding down the sidewalk -- leaving a bloody trail behind me. As always (yes, I've fell more than a few times), my first thought was ... God, that hurt -- I wasn't even running that fast!

When I caught my breath, I sat up and surveyed the damage. My palms and knees were both torn up and bleeding -- typical concrete road rash wounds filled with grit and small stones.

I limped down the sidewalk, feeling sorry for myself, for a bit. I considered going to Tops Market to clean up in the bathroom and call for a ride home.

For about 12 seconds.

Then, I caught sight of the blood trickling down my right leg and staining my shoe and got this weird adreniline rush and sense of pride.

I wiped my palms on my running shorts, let the blood run down my leg and ran 6 miles home sporting a few new badges of courage.

Yeah, I'm a bad-ass tough runner chick.

Unfortunately, bad-ass tough runner chick wounds that look really cool with a race t-shirt and Saucony's don't look so great on Monday morning with heels and a skirt.

Looks like I'll be wearing pants at work the rest of this week.

And, maybe a helmet, shin guards and knee pads during my next long run.