I am jogging. The weather is good, my pace steady.
Out of nowhere, I get smacked by a huge force from behind which nearly pushes me off the road, instantly followed by a pain in both my hip and elbow. I find myself scolding loudly, while I rapidly try to grasp what the hell just happened.
Something hit me. And the only possible explanation is that it was on purpose. You can easily bike with three people next to each other over the path on which I run. I was running at the very outside of the road and there is plenty of space to pass. There is no other traffic, and you can see people approaching from far, far away.
The thing I try to avoid by all means when running, is to stop because of external circumstances. The only exception being that one time when a house burnt down and a little boy on the road started talking to me.
I slow down and stop.
I turn around and face a guy on a scooter with a neutral look on his face, who also came to a halt by now. The most logical explanation I had come up with in the three seconds that had passed, was that this sicko purposely hits girls with his scooter as an excuse to talk to them, pretending it was an accident.
“Are you OK?” I am on my guard. “What happened?” I ask, clearly not amused by the whole scenario. “I didn’t see you in time. I’m sorry. Are you OK?” That is the lamest excuse ever: how could he not have seen me? My elbow burns. I clearly feel my hip. But I also realise that, in fact, I am quite OK. I am more shocked than in any serious physical pain; “Yeah”. He is wearing sunglasses and I don’t like the fact that I can’t see his eyes, can’t see his response.
“Are you training for the marathon?” “No.” I don’t feel like making conversation. Are you sure you are OK?” “yes” “Ok, well.. Ehm… Hope you have a great weekend despite of this, sorry again”.
As he drives off, I see him focused at his hand and only now I realise that he had had his phone in his hands the whole time. I suddenly understand how he didn’t notice me miles afar if he was so busy texting or doing whatever he was doing while looking at his phone. It made sense now.
I resume running, fairly sure the world is filled with idiots.
Fast forward 20 minutes. I am still running: same path, different direction, heading back home.
I approach a bunch of youngsters who slightly block the way. About five of them, with three bikes. They are standing still and seem just on their way to continue their journey again.
One guy turns around and spits on the ground, just missing my foot. His friend calls on him for not being careful. I am fairly sure that mr. Spit wasn’t aiming at me as he still had his back turned at me one second ago. I will give him that. But seriously guys? What is with all the hitting and spitting today?
I keep on running.
It seems as if the universe is mocking me. Maybe this path isn’t safe for me anymore. Hitting, spitting, shitting. The latter is the only thing left to make this ridiculous run rhyme perfectly. I look suspiciously at some ducks as they waggle over the road. “Please be nice to me”, I think, while I make a lot of space for them. Of course they don’t do anything, because it wouldn’t make sense that every single creature on this path is rotten.
The ducks don’t attack me.
I get home safe and sound. The end.
My story comes with three morals:
1. Just because you have had bad experiences doesn’t mean everyone you meet on your path will do you harm.
2. Not every guy who hits you is hitting on you.
3. Just because a guy has good intentions doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt.
What did you learn from your everyday adventures recently?