In the morning, I realized that the game started at noon rather than 3 pm. So I thought about the writing workshop that I was attending: I could not withdraw my attendance (as it had impact on my reputation) so I decided to attend one hour of the workshop. Then I thought about how I would get to the game. Should I bike to the workshop and back to the my place? Or do I go directly from the workshop? Was it the same time? And I thought about how Chris was going to accomplish his task. Will he be on time? Will there be sufficient time to drive and park? Was driving a good enough reason? How will we meet up? Then, I thought about how long it took to walk from the BART station? Why didn’t I know the starting time earlier?
The stress was so distracting that my writing workshop was not as successful for myself as I had hoped. Rushing back to my place, I switched bags and put on my gear. Then as the thoughts whizzed through my mind, I rushed down my steps.
And in a single moment, the only moment that has happened in the last 6 years that I lived in this building, I misjudged a step and fell. I heard the smack as I landed on uncomfortable parts of my body. I glanced around, seeing that nobody saw. My bags were safe, untouched and unbroken. Brushing myself, I scanned my body for injury. Three painful spots. Muscular aches I hoped and started limping to the BART station. Seems like I wouldn’t make the 11:31 am train. I remembered distinctly my falls this year in the bus terminal in Vancouver and the lobby of the YBCA. Surely, I could recover right?
And on the way, as I called Chris to tell him about what happened and my delayed arrival, I started to feel relief wash over me and the stress disappeared. In place of the pain that I had.
It was going to be ok.