Today I decided to get off my butt and go work out. When I got in the car, I noticed the condition of my shoes (duct taped from falling apart inside, soles starting to fall off, and mostly dyed red from spreading mulch on a mission trip earlier this summer) and decided to make a pit stop at Kohl’s to pick up a new pair for myself. I went a good 20 minutes out of my way and found the perfect pair. They felt like they were made for my feet. No unnecessary rubbing, no cut-off circulation, plus the lining at the bottom of the shoe was securely attached and I did not need to duct tape them down. They were darkish grey with pink details, so you know they looked cool (white running shoes always make me feel like a grandma). And they were only $45, which is pretty good in my eyes.
So I purchased my shoes and put them on in the car so I could wear them to the Y and break them in a little. Nothing beats that first time you work out in a new pair of shoes. If I am going to sweat excessively and rip up my muscles a little in the name of getting stronger, then golly, I am going to do it while floating on a cloud, because that’s what a new pair of shoes feels like, right? I found a parking spot right near the front, but I noticed it a little late and decided to just find another one instead of backing up a little to take that one, figuring the extra steps couldn’t hurt.
I’ve had a headache for the past two days, and a little stomachache all day, and I quickly discovered that Mr. Elliptical and I were just not going to be friends this afternoon. I could manage about a half hour at a moderate pace before eventually giving up because my headache was pounding a little harder and my tummy was just not diggin the extra jostling around. I took my time and filled up my water bottle so it was full again, and even joked around with the older gentleman who was waiting outside for a bathroom about how it was too hot to work out, even inside! I strolled out to my car, hopped in, put her in reverse, and slowly backed out, making sure to look both ways, when, BUMP! Hello, Mr. Black Jetta. A couple obscenities later, I reparked and braved the heat wave to assess the damages.
My car, that beast, had not a scratch on her. But Mr. Jetta… oh boy. He got a beating. Ms. Honda left Mr. Jetta a pretty big valley of an eyesore on his bumper, and the young man driving was none too pleased. Of course I apologized profusely and immediately felt like an idiot because I have never gotten into an accident before and didn’t even know what to do. Plus this guy was totally good looking, and I was sweaty, and I was thinking about how good looking he was when I should have been thinking about what the heck I was supposed to do. The accident itself was really nobody’s fault. We were simply both backing out at the exact same time, and probably were looking in opposite directions to check for traffic and wound up in a blind spot somewhere. We exchanged information and all that jazz and drove off into the sunset (I told him to back out first, of course).
This week did not start off on the right foot. Between fights with friends and botched reconciliation efforts with another (which I was expecting, but still, sucks) and generally feeling blah, I didn’t need an accident. But soon after leaving that parking lot, I was struck by this incredible sense of purpose.
I didn’t have to go to Kohl’s first. I could have taken the parking spot that was a little closer. I probably could have even done an extra five minutes on the elliptical if I really wanted to, or bo-dunked around in my car for awhile before pulling out. But the nature of the accident was such that we were both pulling out at the same time and it just happened. The situation sucks, obviously, but it made me feel like I was exactly at a place I needed to be at the precise moment in time. If I went to work out first, I may have avoided that accident, sure, but who knows, maybe by stalling around in the parking lot getting insurance information, I wound up missing something else that could have been worse. Right? Maybe God put me in this sucky situation because it beats an even suckier situation that I could have found myself in.
And lets assess the damages. First of all, nobody died. Secondly, my car is a total badass and I love it even more for it (because really, you should have seen the dent in the other car). Thirdly, the guy was pretty good looking and now he has my number, you know, just incase this turns into one of those romantic-comedy-moments and we wind up falling in love, getting married and making babies or something (it could happen, right?). Fourthly, the guy was super understanding and not at all mad, even though his car was brand new and it was “hot as BALLS” (his words, not mine). And fifthly, God continues to amaze me in the way He chooses to reveal His love for me… even in the suckiest of circumstances.