I failed three times today within the span of two hours today. This consists of: wrong shoes, wrong workout day, and wrong timing. I will elaborate on these as my story unfolds.
A few hours ago, I was in my garage walking over to my running shoes. I planned to kick my casual slip-on shoes to the side, but my attention was elsewhere. I quickly forgot my original intentions and, due to constant repetition, put the latter on instead. The first failure: bringing the wrong shoes to the gym. I knew it was a bad idea.
Today’s workout consisted of working out the lower body. This marks my second failure: choosing to work out this particular muscle group into oblivion. Squatting is one of my staple workouts for those days. That’s the one thing slip-on shoes are good for at the gym: squats. After that, the remainder of my workout killed the rest of my legs’ muscle fibers. I left the gym limping step by step.
It was almost 5:00pm by the time I left the gym. I pulled out of the parking lot and onto Beach Blvd and was on my way home. This was the time where everyone was getting off work. Even so, the cars in front of me were moving exceptionally slow as we were making a left onto Rosecrans. As I was making a turn, I saw the reason for congestion. A lawn care & landscaping truck was being pushed across the intersection.
It’s around 5:00pm now, and I’m driving up Rosecrans. It’s pitch dark. It’s raining. I made a U-turn at the same exact spot where I picked up a hitchhiker four months ago – you could read about that post HERE. I then headed back to the intersection of Rosecrans/Beach. As I drove through it, I finally scouted the truck. It was parked on the right side of Rosecrans, several meters after the intersection. One man was standing outside. Because of the No Parking signs, I continued driving until I reached the next street: Mercado Avenue. I turned into the neighborhood and parked my car.
It’s still raining. It’s still dark. I’m still barely able to walk. I’m still in my slip-on shoes. I’m still wearing my glasses. I was aiming for to reach for the truck, which was one whole block away. I start limping in that direction. The raindrops falling from the trees were bombarding me, and my glasses were quickly becoming soaked from the rain. I didn’t want to become drenched by the time I reached my destination, so I started running… in the rain, with my lactic-acid filled legs, with my shoes splashing in the water.
When I first reached the general area of the truck, I was puzzled. My wet glasses distorted my vision even further, and there was no sight of a man standing outside. I then peered into the only lawn care & landscaping truck and spotted two men sitting inside – By the way, I’m only calling it a lawn care & landscaping truck because I quickly Googled it; I’m not sure if that’s the actual name of it. It’s the truck that holds lawnmowers and other gardening stuff that are usually seen driven by Latinos – They didn’t notice my presence, so I stepped into the muddy grass and knocked on their window.
Looked similar to this, but with manila paint and more beat up.
I think they were startled, but the man riding shotgun opened the door. He was a Latino man looking at least 40 years old, and the driver was an Asian man of similar age. I then said, “Excuse me. I drove past you guys not too long ago and saw you guys in the intersection. I decided to drive back to see if you guys needed a hand. Do you guys need help?” The Latino man didn’t understand too much English, but he said that they didn’t need help. He repeated it a few times, and the Asian man spoke up and said that he had called a friend for assistance. They both thanked me for my time, but I think they were more confused as to why I was standing before them. I started running back to my car.
The dashboard showed 5:11pm as I started my engine. At this time, water had gone through my shoes and my socks were soaked. My entire upper body was drenched in water, and my glasses were fogged by the heat emitted by my body temperature. I then drove back home in the congested rush hour. This entire scenario marked my third failure: my timing. The failure consisted of the wrong day, for it was raining. It also consisted of the poor timing, which included the darkness and the rush hour.
There was no climax to this story. There was no exciting end. I didn’t die a martyr, nor save a damsel from distress. Sorry to disappoint.So, these three failures each counts as strikes. Because I received three, I’ve officially struck out. The end score for today – Andy’s Success: 0 Andy’s Failure: 1.
As if it wasn’t already obvious, I wanted to help the people with their truck in any way possible. After I first noticed them, I contemplated my amount of spare time. In the end, I didn’t care if it was raining, if I could barely walk, if I was wearing the wrong shoes, or if I had dinner with some friends in a couple of hours. I thought that it must have sucked for those people to be struck with such poor luck. Had I been in the same situation, I would have greatly appreciated assistance. That was enough for me to make the U-Turn at Clark Regional Park on Rosecrans Avenue.
Now, similar to the theme of my hitchhiking story, I don’t consider this an act of selflessness. My motives weren’t selfless. I didn’t do what I did just for the two men in the truck. Many of you might be puzzled to hear that. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it myself in my next blog post – Selflessness vs. Selfishness: My False Dichotomy.