Crabby pants (that don't fit quite like they used to)

Yesterday sucked. I woke up in an inexplicably pissy mood. I realized while hurrying off to work in the morning that I had forgotten to do my dishes from the previous night. Wanting to be a courteous roommate, I scrambled to wash them. When you want to get your dishes done quickly, you naturally flip the water on full pressure. While washing a bowl, I accidentally positioned the dish at the precise angle that directed all of that gushing water directly to my pants. Already way behind schedule, I decided it was just too late for me to go change clothes. So I headed for work, looking like I had peed my pants. Awesome. On my brisk walk to the metro station, a ginormous street sweeper came along and started driving in circles over a construction-demolished intersection that I needed to pass. Massive, dense clouds of dust filled the surrounding area. I paused in hopes that they might settle, but they lingered persistently. Grumbling, I stormed through the floating dust. Now I appear urine-soiled and dirty. Bring it, Monday.

I boarded the metro, and got stuck standing next to a man who had- by FAR - the most potent, nostril-burning body odor any human being has ever lived to tell about. I held my breath for three stops, then opted for a transfer that I don't usually take. I went to work, was irritated by things that absolutely should NOT have irritated me, and had a sub-par day at the office. (My apologies to anyone who had the misfortune of encountering my moodiness yesterday.)

At last, I made it home! I decided that nothing pulls me out of a crappy mood like a good run. For months, it's been too cold or too dark and unsafe for me to run when I get home from work, but it was a beautiful day, and this was my time to shine! I slipped into some workout attire, grabbed my armband radio thingy, and headed for the nearby sketchy running trail. (wooded trail in PG County = sketchy. But my options in bustling Hyattsville are limited so I just think happy thoughts as I try to ignore the crunching of broken liquor bottles beneath my feet.)

Now, as anyone who has taken an extended hiatus from working out can tell you, your first few times back at it are rough. You feel flabby, uncoordinated, and just generally unfamiliar with your own body. But no big deal. A few blocks into it, I felt like I'd fallen into a groove. I made my way down the very busy street that leads to the sketchy trail. A lot of jackasses honk and yell out their windows during this stretch. I have no idea what they say, but I generally flick them off by reflex. I am only mentioning these interactions to highlight the fact that spectators are very much present at this point in the story.

Almost to the end of the busy street stretch and within sight of the trail's beginning, I had to pass through another construction area. Gravel.... gravel.... gravel.... Then, without notice, big slab of elevated SIDEWALK. (cut to slow motion as my foot meets the sidewalk's edge and I fly forward...) 'Nooooooooooo....!!!' Determined to fight the fall and recover with grace, I lunged my other foot forward to take a giant, saving step. But there was no hope. No grace. No saving to be had in that step. I'm not clear on the exact sequence of events from here on, but I know that I landed on my knee, bounced forward, landed on another part of my knee, skidded forward, and scraped up a hip, an elbow and a hand. I don't know how I managed to make contact with the concrete on so many different points of my body, but I trust that my gradual, face-planting process was quite a sight for passers by.

I laid there for a second, stunned, embarrassed, and laughing. Did I really just manage to sprawl myself out this way just by running? At least when I broke my ankle while rollerblading, I had the excuse of getting my wheel caught in railroad tracks. But this? This was just unacceptable. I stood up and surveyed the damages. Bleeding hand and knee, scraped hip and elbow. Each stinging and mildly throbbing. Go home and clean myself up or keep going? I determined that going home at this point would mean accepting the bitter truth that I am less physically fit and less coordinated than I have ever been in my life. I refused to have that and determined to instead forge ahead with my denial, assuring myself that I could still salvage a good run from this outing. So I continued to the trail and finished the expedition without further incident.

When I shared this story with Nitin, he told me that I'm a dumbass. I solemnly agreed. He then formed a theory, based on this incident and my ankle-breaking rollerblade incident of May '03.
"I think that you just get so excited about nice weather that you get overzealous and lose all control. HeehahahHEhewwhEEhAhahaha!!!! Yeah! I'm outside! Splat."

I think he's onto something. :)