I Love Running.

Today was a gorgeous Sunday. It feels like Punxsutawney Phil predicted proper, because there's spring in the air instead of more snow. In order to take a break from reading catch-up, I excitedly donned my new running shoes, and sprinted off with my UnitedHealthCare pedometer clipped to the pocket of my sweatshirt.

As I was running along to Moby (yes, really), somewhere in mile 1.5 (according to aforementioned trusty pedometer) I decided I was too hot, and pushed my hoodie off. I was in the process of using both hands to arrange my newly cropped hair into a short half-ponytail when I began to run on the curb in order to bypass an adorable, but slow moving older (mid-50s/60s) couple that were taking up the sidewalk. Of course, of course, of course, my foot misjudged the curb's width, and I tumbled - literally, fell on my back and rolled like a turtle - right in front of the adorable (and now stopped) couple.

"Oof!" I called out as I put both my hands out and scraped up the palms. When I sat back upright, I discovered I had scraped (minimally) the top part of my shin, and I peered into two quixotic faces that were - quite obviously - practiced parents, if not grandparents. They fussed over me, handing me my keys, my hair tie, and iPod that had splayed themselves across the sidewalk during my fall. They reassured me I wasn't bleeding (eventhough I could tell), and helped me up with their own two hands.

In my embarrassment (and amusement), I apologized repeatedly for ... falling, and told them confidently I lived nearby and could make it home just fine.

I did some hill sprints and jogged the rest of the way back to my nearby apartment. Once home, I promptly dabbed the scrape with hydrogen peroxide and now I'm sort of admiring it while I finish up my law school reading.

But, I can feel all my muscles tightening in laughter at me as I move, and I feel every cool breeze on my fresh scrape like a first breath. It's good to be reminded I have a working body that's alive and entertaining, instead of just fingers that type on a keyboard and a brain that can (or can't) absorb employment discrimination law. And, it's nice to feel sort of like a kid again, even if it means being a little clumsy and having strangers fuss over your booboo.

Oh, and also the moral is that I should probably stop trying to "multitask" even when I'm running, and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other and living my life in mindfulness of movement.

But, in the meantime, I'm amused.

Currently Listening: DeVotchKa - How it Ends