Running accident

There was a man’s hand on my chest when I opened my eyes. He handed me my glasses, carefully placing the lenses in the palm of my hand. I was in an ambulance. In my other hand I was gripping my ipod, now somewhat scratched but still playing the documentary I had started listening to at the beginning of my run.

Sunset on the corniche is peaceful, beautiful even if you have been here for a few years and your frames of reference are suitably bent out of shape. The sun streams through the trees and flickers over the uneven sand track where I like to run. Sprinting towards the white mosque I became slightly dizzy. I looked away from the ground, avoiding the patterns of light and sprinted on.

I must have lost consciousness in full sprint as there were no grazes on my hands. I imagine my movement arrested, like that of a cartoon character hovering in mid air, before suddenly and spectacularly crashing to the ground and breaking in to a thousand pieces.

Actually, I didn’t break into many pieces at all. Perversely, I managed to avoid hitting the extensive soft sands that cover most of the track. Instead I hit one of the concrete planters, biting it firmly on the way down. Apart from an impressively bashed nose and an interesting graze, my teeth took much of the blow, leaving me looking like the veteran of many bare knuckle fights.

This was three weeks ago ...