The Rad Tax

Saturday before our departure: loads of errands to consider and not a minute to spare.  Time for a trail run, of course.
I've been working on a circuit along the Potomac, but first try was turned around by high water in late February.  Seemed like the time to go and get home by late morning to get in last minute sites and sounds of DC.
I left a carefully crafted plan for Craig (we now know this is part of self preservation) on where I would be running, but also left my cell phone.
Setting off, I saw a cardinal flash through the brush, which is an amazing site for a girl from the Pacific Northwest. Surely, an auspicious sign!
Mile 3.8 or so, I missed the climb up to a bluff above Chain Bridge.  The blue markings disappeared, but I could see the bridge and quite a few guys fishing on the banks of the river.  It wasn't a bad idea to just push on and take a slight detour.
Until it was a really bad idea.  While crossing a stream over a a very sharp rock sitting at an angle in the stream bed, I slipped. It hurt a bit more than usual, so I looked at my left knee, noting blood and a large gash where the skin used to smooth over the top of my knee cap. Brief reflection on our medical training last week: No tourniquet needed... But the run was over and the day decidedly out of alignment.
A nice fisherman, who turned out to be another foreign service officer soon-to-be-in-training, gallantly drove me to urgent care and a few hours later, 5 stitches in place, I was free to kick myself repeatedly.  But, sweet Craig reminded me through gritted teeth I'm a rad chick.  Sometimes, you have to pay a tax for being rad.  We'll call it the Rad Tax.  Apparently, usually due just before you have to get on a plane to move to the other side of the planet. I've done it before, but that is really a story for another day!