1. a clumsy, awkward person.
2. a stupid or foolish person; blockhead.
Let me set the scene for you. (This is slightly running related, I promise.)
Work meeting in NY this morning with people I am meeting for first time, so good impression is important. Because I want to be punctual and not risk any delays I take an earlier flight (even if it means getting up at 3:30 a.m.).
No flight issues and I have some time to kill after I arrive in NY so I park myself at a Starbucks across the street from the building and take time to go over my meeting materials. Starbucks' bathroom is out of order so I leave a few minutes early to use the restroom in the building where my meeting is taking place. I'm feeling pretty good at this point. I'm punctual, I'm prepared, I'm dressed nicely, I'm confident.
(The following passage is likely to contain some cursing, so if you think you might be offended, you may want to visit another blog.)
I open the door to exit Starbucks, my leg moves forward and SPLAT!
Being the klutz that I am, I do not notice the huge stoop down to the sidewalk and completely miss it and am now sprawled on the ground in front of Starbucks on Broadway.
My first thought is Oh. Shit.
I slammed down on my knees and did a weird twisty motion with my feet so in the first two seconds I am worried about any potential knee, feet, ankle injuries that could potentially impact my marathon training.
In the next two seconds I become incredibly embarrassed because here I am, sprawled out in front of a busy Starbucks on Broadway and something, not sure, but suffice to say it is a busy corner in Manhatten.
And the next two seconds I realize the truly dreadful consequence of my klutziness. Here I am about 22 minutes before my important work meeting and I've ripped my pants in the knee (pretty bad, no way to hide it) and I'm sitting in some Godknowswhatisonthecement puddle. Is it spilled coffee, is it pee, what the hell is this sticky gross goop that is now on my butt and suit jacket?!
Oh. F.U.C.K.
I am very panicked and flustered and trying to hold back tears at this point because even though my meeting is now in about 19 minutes and I cannot possibly show up like this I'm supposed to be a calm, cool, collected, professionial media relations executive.
I run/limp the next block hoping to find something, a mall, a Macys, a vendor selling an "I heart NY" shirt, SOMETHING!!
And then my faith in all that is good was restored. All at once the clouds parted, the sun shone down, the angels sang and there it was. Ann Taylor Loft. And it was open.
I was so happy if I was pregnant I would be naming my child "Ann Taylor."
I've also never shopped so fast in my life. I grabbed some pants and a suit jacket off the rack, tried them on, ripped off the tags and told the salesperson, I'll be wearing these out.
I paid, threw out the clothes I left Chicago in and was twirling around in a circle asking the salesperson, "Did I miss any tags? Did I?" (I think she was frightened by me, she probably thought I was a fugitive.)
I am shocked that I made the meeting on time, with a couple minutes to spare, and that was even after I stopped in a restroom to make sure I didn't have bloody scrapes visible anywhere. Meeting went well too, although throughout the meeting I kept wondering if a clothing tag was going to pop out of somewhere.
My foot and knee is pretty sore, I think I'm going to have some nasty bruises.
So am I a runner now if my first thought was about my feet/knees/ankles and not about my ripped pants?
