I Got Hit By a Car This Morning

I'm very tired of being a complete fat-ass, so I've been going for walks in the morning.  Just walking around the block, or to the park and back, whatever keeps me moving and interested.  I'm actually somewhat proud of my progress - since my first foray out of the realm of the sedentary, I've literally octupled the distance I can walk comfortably.  I'd not go so far as to call it a "long walk," but definitely an accomplishment.

I have found myself rising very early these days anyway, regardless of when I go to sleep, but I particularly choose mornings for my exercise.  I like the weather on the cool side, and a San Francisco morning can be, shall we say, a bit brisk at times.  I like that there are not many people out and about, to see me huffing and puffing down the street, red-faced like some sort of ambulatory tomato.  And I like that there aren't a lot of cars at that time of day.  It's not a major issue, in general - more than half the time, my walk is simply a number of circuits around the block, so I don't even cross paths with cars in the roadway.  But I do sometimes vary the route, to the park, as mentioned, or the 7-11 a few blocks over and down the hill.

This morning, I decided to not walk anywhere in particular, but to widen my "lap" - instead of going around the block four or five times, I'd circle two blocks, twice.  A nice distance, and a view that, in the context of me being on foot, as opposed to driving, was new.

I had completed the first block of the trip.  I was at a four way stop sign, and stopped to look. There was a car coming up behind me, maybe 50 feet down the street.

I started to cross, as I was the only thing actually at the intersection - no other pedestrians or cars.  Luckily, I kept alert.  The car behind me kept coming, and not slowing down, not slowing down.  As I got to almost halfway across the street, I realized that he had ignored the stop sign, and I twisted my body out of the way.  I saw him see me as his front fender just barely got my calf muscle.  I went to the ground, and he immediately stopped and jumped out of the car.

"Where did you come from?  Where did you come from?  Oh my god, where did you come from?" As if I'd simply poofed into existence in his path.  I shook my head a few times and gathered my thoughts.  Did a quick inventory, and found all parts accounted for.  I hefted my ass off the pavement and walked a few paces back and forth, just sort of making sure I was alive. Surprisingly, I had only a few choice words for the driver, nothing too outrageous.  I was fine, and I think I might have been in shock or something.  I mean, now, I can think of all kinds of ways the whole thing could've played out.  At the time, though, I just shooed him away, cursed a little, said "Watch where you're going, asshole!", and went on my way.

Dammit, I should've at least flung some feces or something.