You know those occasional bruises you discover upon your knee or across your abdomen, those whose inception remains a mystery to you for the extent of their existance?
Yes, well, I get those often…..quite often actually. It is, in fact, a rarity that I should awake to find my body void of some random bruise that has seemingly appeared sometime in the night to visit me, only to drive me half mad trying to acertain it’s origination whilst sitting in bed, rubbing my sleepy, still half-sleeping eyes.
The trouble is, I can only suspect their most likely culprit is myself and myself alone. If you know me but at all this can hardly come as a surprise to you, as I am, to my chagrin, the World’s Most Graceful Klutz.
Alright, so I added the graceful part, but it’s not like I’m falling on my face all the time or tripping down the stairs. No, my klutziness sort of has a life of it’s own, described here in a former post, disclosing another one of my many flaws. http://charliesbend.wordpress.com/2011/02/01/memoirs-of-a-klutz/
And oh it felt so good to admit it.
Anyway, the reason I said all that was to let you know that I finally have a good sized bruise that I actually have the story behind.
Congratulations to me:)
I know exactly when I got it, how I got it, and am happy to report that (at least this once) was not my fault.
Ok, before I start gloating over a story most people would probably not want to tell at all, let me begin and so end any false perception of me being a girly-girl.
I’d seen the guy and his dogs before on numerous occasions down by the water. The horse trail I like to run after work runs parallel to a nice little bubbling creek below, or whatever sound creeks make. I know there are are tadpoles in it because I used to capture them there when I was a child, and watch them grow into frogs at home before setting them free again.
On this particular day the sun was exceedingly sunny and the heat was exceedingly hot. It was the sort of day that makes the bottom of your shoes so warm that you wonder if they’re going to melt away or become one with your foot. But, as a summer SoCal girl I enjoy it all and was running despite the possibility of losing my feet.
As I passed by I waved to the dude and his dogs, as I do with all the regular folks by the creek whose names I don’t know. I tend to be a very observant person and am intensely aware of my surroundings to the point where I’ll notice if even a small bush has been trimmed back or if there are footprints in new places in the dirt.
And I always notice people.
I made note of his location down below, that he had one of his dogs on leash, one was loose, and that he had a cell phone in his right hand and seemed to be preoccupied by it. None of this I cared about at all, I just observed it as I do everything else.
About ten seconds later I found myself crashing headlong into the dirt trail I had been running, then rolling to my side until I stopped and was staring up at the sky.
“What the crap?”, said I to myself while I laid there, aware that whatever I had crashed into was, for once, not me.
Suddenly my assailant was looming directly above my head, disclosing his identity. Instead of the sky I now found myself nose-to-nose with a big fluffy cocker spaniel and two sweet, glossy brown eyes staring down at me. Before he had a chance to kiss me hello, his companion came up to greet me as well, followed by the man who obviously belonged to them.
He sort of fell all over himself apologizing, to which I laughed and merrily waved my hand up at him from the ground, begging him not to worry about it, and that ‘dogs will be dogs’. I must’ve looked a disgrace indeed, as he kept looking at me with deep concern, as if I were half dead or something. Once he’d helped me up I had to assure him three times I really was quite alright and wave him away. He just kept apologizing and staring at me like I was about to fall over.
It was only after I’d returned from my run that I realized how bad I actually did appear. Covered in sweat from head to toe from the heat, all the dirt and dust and dead leaves sort of stuck to me everywhere, giving the distinct impression of a dirt monster. In addition, the blood from the cuts on my knee and leg had mixed with the dirt, making a sort of muddy-bloody paste on both my legs.
Yeah, pretty scary.
BUT, do you know what I got out of it? Yes! I got a bruise, with a story, that I cannot take any blame for.