One benefit to having a chaotic love life with a long record of failures is it gives me time to indulge my workaholism.
I hear you, Tycoon. You think I’m unlucky in love BECAUSE of my workaholism.
You might have a point, there.
The problem with working every minute of every day for months on end is it is easy to get fat. Recently I gained back 15 pounds it took me 18 months to lose. Why does it take 18 months to lose 15 pounds but you can gain it back in 2 months?
So, I sliced some time out to start running again. I like to run at night where people are. There are attractive women in Los Angeles and it helps pass the time during the incredible monotony of running.
Last night I was feeling good, running past restaurants and nightclubs. It reminded me of days past when I had a social life. Several blocks later, the din of the nightlife receded behind me and the sidewalks became dark again.
I noticed a couple coming toward me and I remember thinking that they looked famous for some reason. It’s not a stretch. There are so many famous people in LA, sometimes you see someone and think they look like somebody well known.
They were still a half-block away when I caught my foot on a chunk of the sidewalk that was sticking out. Then, I’m not sure how, my other foot caught the same chunk.
Sometimes you can catch yourself when you stumble, but not this time–both feet were clipped. Or you can try your best to stumble-roll forward. Nope. I was going straight down.
I tried to cushion the impact by stretching out my arms, and hit the ground with my hands and knees all at the same time. Sadly, the sidewalk was made up of little pebbles which acted like a cheese grater on my skin.
It happened so fast, I remember at first being shocked- WTH just happened?
Then, I put my bloody hands on the sidewalk and pushed myself to my feet and kept running.
The thing is, Tycoon, the first you thing you learn in tackle football or ice hockey at 5 years old is that if someone knocks you down, you get back up right away.
Having three brothers also teaches this one to you quickly. It doesn’t matter if your brother knocks you down with a hammer, if you can get up, you do it. Fortunately, my brothers never hit me with a hammer. Two hatchets and a screwdriver, yes.
So now I am running again, blood dripping from my hand and both knees. I know the couple has watched the whole thing.
I could just look down and run past but I look at her and say, “That one hurt!”
She has a look of horror and pity on her face.
I hear the guy say, “Are you all right?”
But I’m too far past them to answer. I’m sure he only said that to look sympathetic in front of his girlfriend. Inside he was cracking up. I would be. It was spectacular.
As I ran, a flap of skin on my palm was flapping in the night air as blood dripped on the pavement every other step. It’s funny how it didn’t feel that bad at first. That would come the next day.
Once I was home, I cleaned it up as best I could. It almost hurt as much to clean out the cuts than it did to get them. I peeled off the skin that was just hanging on and bandaged it all up.
The weird thing, Tycoon, was I kept running for 45 minutes after I fell. People gave me funny looks as I ran past, scraped up everywhere with blood dripping off.
They quickened their step and shielded the kids.