Today while running I tripped over a dead bird and this happened:
OK, forget the dead bird part, but I did succumb to my two left feet. Goodbye sexy summer legs, hello batman band-aids!
I wish E was here to “ooh” and “aww” at my injuries, although they might still be partially intact a couple weeks from now when I retrieve him from LA.
The funniest part of it all is how it happened.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I have mastered the art of making fun of people (only in whispered voices of course). Besides, if you weigh 400 pounds and decide to put on spandex and hooker shoes then you must expect an instinctual reaction from fellow humans in your same general vicinity. You must.
I am running along, looking around desperately for things to occupy my thinking. The flowers and grass just weren’t doing it for me today (apparently the sidewalk wasn’t either). I began to approach a vehicle and I immediately notice a handicap sticker on the license plate, being the inquisitive woman I am I decided to take a little peek into the vehicle to see who and/or what was inside. Now, mind you, I had to do this very quickly because I was running–remember. So, I look in and I see a man, a very big man, a very very big man, and then my mind began to wonder why in the hell this very young, big man, is handicap. I keep going forward, but I was so taken aback that I decided to do a double take at the vehicle license plate to see if I had actually viewed it correctly with a handicap sticker. I know, who the hell cares right. Well, I do.
I looked back, there it was. I was satisfied, and then I look forward and bam, right on my knees, hard, I hit the cement. I’ll tell you what that very young, big man in the car was probably doing–nah I’ll let you use your imagination. Blood dripping down my legs, I jumped right up, and I kept running right along, oh well. As I got a little further down the road I was feeling pretty good about my sweaty body and horrific looking knees with battle wounds intact; however, I learned that these are the types of things that happen when you spend too much time focused on unnecessary objects/people/license plates. When you try to make fun AND run at the same time.
The worst part of it all, after seeing me fall like that, that man will probably never adopt running as a hobby. That’s quite a shame, quite a shame.