Stop means Stop

It's Sunday.
It's been about a week since I went on a jog. The day is perfect, 65 degrees and sunny! Sunday jogs in the spring are the best. New Yorkers are busting at the seems to get out of their 600 square foot apartments and stretch their legs. There is always great people watching on these jogs. I gear up, have some Grape Nut Crunch and coffee and gulp down a glass of water. Off I go.

I start the run like any normal run. By dodging European tourists as I run past the Met. I swing around towards the park and pass under the bridge where the homeless man sits with his Scoop bag, trinkets and fruit meticulously laid out for all to see. After a slight incline, I round the corners of the Great Lawn and finally make it over to the West Side.

I begin to slow down upon reaching the red light. Hm. I will just wait before I cross the street. I come to a stop. And then it hits me. It's like I'm standing in the ocean waving to a friend on the beach only to get slapped on my backside by wave that came out of no where! That is how I feel when I'm hit with the dizziness and nauseous feeling. OH NO. I am about to pass out. Is this really happening?

I see a bench. I just need to sit down. I just need to walk across the entrance to the park and then I can sit down at the bench. Ok. One step at a time. Almost there. . . . OUCH! What am I jolting into? OW! Shut. What do I keep hitting? Are my eyes even open? And where is all of that noise coming from? BAM.

Oh. My. Gosh. What just happened? I come back into full consciousness. I make it to the bench. I look back to see where I just came from. You have got to be kidding me. Did I seriously just duke it out with the steel barrier (complete with large metal stop signs) that blocks the entrance to the park? Um. . . Yes. Yes I did. Did anyone see me? No, no the didn't. Or they did and they're so embarrassed for me and the abrasive dance I did with the roadblock that they won't even offer me help. I'm OK. I'm OK. Breathe.

I'm totally fine now, except a gash on my leg and scratches all over my hands. Maybe I should be glad that the big metal arm was there. Instead of falling to the ground, I ricocheted off the stop sign a few times. Yea. Now, instead of healing from a concrete related head injury, I'm just limping around because the bruise on my thigh is so massive.

What a day. I think I will hold off on the Sunday jogs for a while.
But, hey, it could have been worse.