When I got back to my building, I saw that the expanding spots of darkness on my palms were, indeed, pools of blood (I'd tried to ignore them during the last half of my run). I also saw that I was covered in mud and leaves, with a tear in my running tights. Naturally, I kept as much of the blood and debris intact as possible before climbing into the elevator with my neighbors as they came home from work. There's a certain macabre glee that comes from bleeding in front of people and pretending as if everything is okay -- they become so disconcerted. (That was the key lesson from my last major face-plant, which involved a bicycle, a garbage truck, two lanes of traffic and a rainstorm in Rennes, France, leaving me with a scraped face and blood running down my knees -- it was truly spectacular and very public.)
|Out, damn'd spot; out, I say.|
P.S. [The next morning] I feel decidedly more ambivalent about the bruises and scrapes on my chest after having tried to sleep on them... It's one thing to look gruesome; it's another thing to feel like you have something drilling into your sternum all night.
Gotta love road rash, the least amount of damage for the most pain! So sorry. Good luck with the healing. Lady
The next time you do this (since you manage to bleed in public at least once a decade) I would highly recommend leaving a blood trail. You know, lean your hand on the elevator wall, pat someone on the shoulder after making evident their disconcertedness, and just for effect you can "plant" a rock to cough out at the appropriate time... I grant that you can manage the timing!
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