As I write this, I'm still dripping with sweat and running high on adrenalin because the trees are out to get me.
While running this morning, I crossed the road at the same place I cross the road every day at about the same time. Above me I heard a sound I've often wondered about ever since a childhood friend was caught underneath a falling tree while wearing his bike helmet. I didn't even look up, I just ran, and I had no idea how far I needed to run to get out of the way as the hundred year old behemoth hit the ground.
My face is covered with tree dust and I'm all sweaty from running but more from almost getting hit by a tree.
When it finally hit the ground, I spun around to see the just how near a miss it was and I scratched myself on one of the thin, once high limbs.
A man living in the nearest house came out and said, "Are you o.k.? I'm really really glad you weren't underneath that when it fell. I saw you run."
|About 12 feet from the ground, the major limbs came a tumblin' down...|
|Where I didn't die.|
When encountering a near death, or at least, possible broken back experience--not that this happens frequently, but often enough that I've always taken the time right after--to count some blessings, re-prioritize and stay inside for the rest of the day.
And that's exactly what I think I'll do.