Leaving it to the gods

I sit in bed listening to the storm that has blown into sunny California.  I wonder IF my run will go well, if at all.  My hesitation is not due to the weather; I actually enjoy running in the rain — in little helpings.  It would also be good to test out the rainwear in case I’m dealt more rain at Nike.  The reason behind my hesitation stems from a little mishap that occurred at a carnival last night.   

After talking on my phone, I was returning to the fiesta and passed by one of BoBo’s friends.  This particular friend (NF) was the one who I hold the most accountable for the extent of BoBo’s downfall.  He was raised well, and had previously attending the Catholic School where the carnival was being held.  But tonight he was hanging with his latest clan of hoodlums.  They were clearly on some sort of synthetic substance, and they taunted me as I walked by.  

Now YaYa had been exploring the carnival with his friends while I camped out with my adult friends at headquarters (the designated check point).  Until that point, I had no worries, but upon seeing NF I became unglued.  Fear began raging through my body, until I uprooted myself to find my son and leave.  

I could not have gotten out of there fast enough.  I kept urging YaYa to hurry up and missed the paved path leading to the sidewalk.  I then attempted to cut through the flower bed, carefully trying to avoid areas of obvious growth.  This was my downfall, for the dark area where I placed my foot lead down deep into a drain of some sort.  Either the cover was off or previously broken.  My shoe jammed and held my foot as my body continued to move forward.  I landed on the ground half-in and half-out of the brick-lined planter box.  

With fear continuing to coarse through my body, I got upright, pulled my shoe from the drain and limped to the van which was parked on a nearby street.  The fight or flight response had clearly signaled “flight.” My shin and the bottom of my foot hurt badly but my priority remained: get out of there.  

On the way home, I cautioned YaYa to never go near NF.  I wanted it crystal clear that, although NF had previously spent the majority of his time with our family, hanging out, dinners over, baseball games, and the like, he was no longer to be trusted.  

It took me quite a while to settle down and as the shock wore off the pain increased.  I iced my ego and went to bed.

Now that the fight or flight response has ended, I can assess the damage.  I believe that my body suffered no significant damage.  There was no broken skin and the bruises are barely visible although they are certainly perceivable.  I assume that Mr. Football will hold practice without regard to the weather.  The tenderness on the outer edge of my foot calls to me as move about the house preparing our things for practice and running in the rain.    

I’ll just have to wait and let the fate of my run be left to the gods.

This post has been interrupted by news from another world.  The gods have spoken:  The sun is out, but practice has been cancelled and, therefore, so has my run.