It’s not the falling down that shows you who you are; it’s the getting up.

This morning I woke to a Facebook memory that six years ago I ran a PR in a half marathon. I’d taken up running, did too much too soon, and got all kinds of injured. It became a huge frustration of mine that I was unable to run for many years after. So, I dedicated myself to getting stronger and fitter (and older). And today I beat that PR.

I was running at a pace that allowed me to smash my previous 10K PR by more than a minute and a half. It hurt like hell. But I had to dig deep for it.

And then I fell over my own two feet with a mile left.

I fell. Over my own two feet.

I was just so tired. It was just so hard.

And road rash hurts like a motherfucker.

But I got up, and I finished. And I got another PR by 31 seconds.

I had told myself over and over for the previous miles that I was tougher than I thought, that I was stronger than I thought, that I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t leave everything out there today.

So I got back off the ground and kept going, one foot in front of the other, running, walking, limping, but I got to the finish line.

And I made myself proud.

It’s not the falling down that shows you who you are; it’s the getting up.

Take that, 48.