Temporary insanity

After a lot of internal turmoil about how I would spend this sunny day (grocery shopping and then climbing? Running and then climbing? Running to the climbing gym? No running at all?) I decided to head out for my usual Saturday run. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit.

The usual round. Rinse and repeat. Motivation was low, despite the sun's valiant efforts to lift my spirits. I'm just sick of running the same round. Sick of running on ice.

Fortunately, about halfway I realised I was keeping a pretty speedy pace, although the ground was icy. That gave me the kick that I needed, and I covered a few kilometres at a 5min/km pace. But then I was by the sea, and everyone and their mother was out for a stroll in the sunshine. And everyone was staring at me, some even with a grin on their faces. The circus was in town and I was the main attraction.

Could be the fact that I'm so stunningly beautiful. Or could be my drooling Lungplus. Nah, it's definitely my beauty. 

The condensation on the lens is of course a conscious choice, an artistic intervention to highlight the uncertainty of a blurry existence.

I glared back and pushed on. I glanced at my Garmin, wondering if I'd manage the half-marathon in under 1:50, then wondering if I even cared. I now had the sun on my back, and my face was freezing so badly it hurt. I wanted to get home, have a cup of tea and let a hot shower warm up my bones.

Then I ran over a pedestrian crossing a little too fast, making eye contact with an oncoming driver, and I slipped on a curve, falling down on my right side.

1 second later, I was pausing my Garmin. Yeah, I'm a living stereotype. If you see me collapse, pause my Garmin, and everything.

2 seconds later, I was getting up, doing a mental check to see if anything was broken. Nothing was. The car had driven by slowly without stopping, trying to avoid my body as it lay across the crossing, presumably because he didn't want to get any bloody bits on his car. And then a wave of emotions hit me.

I started crying with shock and fury. I was a living, breathing ball of rage. Stupid driver that didn't ask if I was ok. Stupid cars that drive over the nice, soft snow and turn it into icy death traps. Stupid Gothenburg weather, stupid shoes, stupid me. It was so unfair that this should happen to me. I was like a spoiled little child who didn't get what she wanted for Christmas, and was now jumping up and down, shaking her fists at the sky and swearing through her clenched teeth that the universe could go shove something sharp up where the sun doesn't shine.

When I came to my senses again, I shook the snow off my clothes and pressed my hand against my thigh and knee. They felt ok, so I started running again. It could have been much worse, I pondered. I could have broken something. I could have gotten a concussion. Or worse: my Garmin could have broken! Thankfully it was only my pride that was wounded.

The out-of-focus effect is a purposeful comment on the fleeting nature of- oh, f*ck it. I have a shitty mobile.

Once at home, I saw the beginnings of a huge bruise on my thigh and some scratches on my knee. Nothing that a glass of wine can't fix. I think I deserve it.