Social Workout

Buns of Steal

SW Challenge Ends in Crash, Burn, And A Face Full of Sidewalk

OW!

This week's free workout: Crunch, 83rd street, courtesy of 2 week free pass.  So scratch all that. Instead of gymhopping my way through a Sunday cardio class, I spent my morning lying on the sidewalk near Morningside Park, gingerly checking my body parts to make sure they were all still there.

There I was, happily jogging down the steep hill between 116th and 110th street, alongside the park, proud of myself for actually getting out of bed on a Sunday and starting a productive day. iPod blasting Juanes. Sun shining. Suddenly I'm flying, and I see the white of my untied shoelace before I face plant on the sidewalk. It was crazy I actually heard a crack when my right temple hit the concrete. Then I hear someone behind me, "Oooh shit! That was SOOO bad."

Then all I hear is Juanes, still happily chirping away as I'm trying to understand whether my head is still on my shoulders, and whether or not my ribs are broken. What the hell, I'm suddenly irrationally annoyed. My hands are pinned under my body, My palm has ground its way into the stone, and my iPod headphones are still stubbornly in my ears, and I can't think because the guitar is too loud. Dammit. 

The voice behind me makes his way over, tentatively, as I writhe on the pavement, trying to decide whether the effort of taking the earphones out is worth the possible risk of further injury. Voice does not come around the front but kind of stops, 5 feet behind me, and offers a half hearted, "You okay?"

Like, the "You okay?" of someone who really, really does not want to stick around. Crap, I think. I've been there before, I get it. He's probably in a hurry.

I scan myself and I'm bleeding from both palms, my elbow, my shoulder, and my forehead. My thighs look like they've been sandpapered, and it hurts to breathe.

"Can you stick around for 2 seconds?" I ask.

OK, cool. He's still behind me. I manage to get the headphones, which have by now begun blasting an even more infuriating Trick Daddy, out of my ears. Nice. But this dude is still behind me, why?

Finally, someone else comes up. Some guy in his 40s or so, who is hailing a cab with his family. He offers me a hand up, and I am relieved that nothing actually hurts as bad as I had thought once I'm actually standing. Wonderful.

I finally look at Voice #1, and its a 19 year old kid who is awkwardly standing there not really sure of what he's supposed to do. Kinda funny. I thank them and hobble to the nearest porch, where I sit for a good 10 minutes inappropriately feeling myself up (my top ribs, right under the right breast, seemed to have sustained the brunt of the blow. Actually now as I write this, the pain is much more in my right shoulder, which is slightly more disconcerting but at least I can massage it at will in public).

So yeah, happy Sunday guys. Sadly, depending on her shoulder, BunsofSteal may have to take a couple days off from gymhopping...

For the ongoing adventures of Buns of Steal, an impoverished but equally resourceful law student in New York City (with a stint in D.C. for the summer!), hoping to make it through 2010 without ever paying for a gym membership, visit "Buns of Steal."