Bleeding

I fell for the first time while running . . . about thirty minutes ago. I think I tripped on a piece of wood (which is so different from a stick). At least that's the only thing that was there on the ground once I turned over and looked for what I could have fallen over. Ten minutes later, I almost took a digger over some uneven pavement. The Woods are dangerous. Between the falling and the serial killer van (just like Silence of the Lambs, I swear . . . white, a little bondo here and there, no windows . . . ) I don't know how I got through it.

There is that moment . . . when you fall . . . that you are three again. The moment before the pain kicks in and the shock of suddenly, unexpectly being on the ground ebbs. That moment where you took the big breath so you could sob. Amazing how that was still there, even though I didn't sob . . . I swore instead.

So a little gravel still in my hand, some little scrapes on my knee. I washed up in the Huntington Woods Public Library. I'm sure they were thrilled to be a part of my experience. I guess I have to figure out how to carry a cell phone, in case I really hurt myself. So bleeding . . . but just a little.