Last year, I was going to run the LSU lakes 3x a week. Beautiful setting and somehow quite therapeutic.
May have done it 3x total. Just didn’t happen.
Didn’t set that goal this year. However, I am improving. So far this year I’ve been 2 times.
Last week was one of those rare occasions. Warm day, ear buds, Pandora, and some good energy was all I needed. Circling the lakes, I was good to go. Then it happened, the unthinkable.
I fell! Like….down! Sprawled across the pavement! I guess I’d looked away just long enough that I tripped. Thankfully I caught myself with my hand. Knee bleeding a steady flow I picked up my surprisingly unbroken I-phone with earbuds still attached, and began the upwards journey back onto my feet.
About halfway up I noticed a large hand extended to help me up. Then I saw large brown eyes looking at me, smiling. Words were not needed. I grabbed his hand, he grabbed mine, then on we went.
Of course I immediately started running again. Didn’t want him to feel sorry for me. (He probably has a mom my age). I looked back, forcing a smile, offered a chipper “thank you!” He smiled and nodded. Oddly he stayed behind me for a good mile further. Then our routes parted and he was no longer in site.
I’m pretty sure he watched to make sure I was OK. No doubt he could have passed me with great ease. He was kind and respectful, yet very quiet about his random act of kindness.
Sometimes I forget my age. At 52, I’m thankful to be healthy and active, which requires daily work and more and more discipline. Yet when I stumble, I thank God there are nice young men who are there to “man up” and do the right thing.
My ego? Bruised! But my heart is warm as I can still see his quiet smile.