On Friday, I rode in a cop car…

This exercise guru conned me into participating in a workout routine called “Gutmageddon” on Thursday. She really didn’t have to persuade me much, as I’m a bridesmaid in this beautiful woman’s wedding on Saturday, and I’m eager to get my arms in better shape. However, on Friday, I was ridiculously sore. So, in order to stretch out my muscles, I decided to go for an “easy” three-mile run around campus after work.

Problem No. 1: It was hotter than weather.com predicted (They said it was 83 degrees. Lies. It was 91.).

Problem No. 2: I apparently can’t run and talk at the same time.

A friend of ours pulled up in his car next to me while I was running and called out, “Hey, where’s Kyle?” I turned to answer, and when I did, I either tripped over the uneven road (likely) or my own feet (also likely) and sprawled out on the concrete.

It wasn’t just a sprawl, though. It was a flip over, roll-around-like-a-dead-fish, eat-the-asphalt type of fall. You know, those super embarrassing ones. And, of course, about fifty cars were around. Frankly, I am thankful I didn’t get hit by a car.

Our friend was so upset. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” he kept asking, looking completely worried.

“No, I’m fine, I promise!” I said, quickly inventorying where I felt pain, mainly my hands and my shoulder. Shockingly, I didn’t see any blood, just red and bruised skin. Shrugging it off, and I waved at him, and to prove that I was fine, I answered his question about my hubby and headed off to run again, assuring him that the only thing truly hurt was my pride. And, at that moment, that was the truth.

I got to my turning around point and ran about a half mile back when the heat and my knee, which was a bit sore, started to get me. I glanced down and saw a nice little bump and red mark on my leg. Rolling my eyes, I decided to try to walk it off instead of run it off.

And that’s basically when my knee gave out.

I realized at this moment that I could not make it the extra mile back to my car. I MIGHT could make it the half mile to my car if I cut across campus. I started hobbling across a parking lot when it dawned on me that there might be a real possibility that I would pass out.

Then I saw it: the blue emergency campus police phones.

I hesitated for several seconds, not wanting to call the cops for something this asinine but also knowing I had another huge parking lot to go across as well as some walking areas for students. Also, God bless them, my students had written a story on the campus police in the spring, saying how most of the calls that came in were from students who had minor issues, like a flat tire, or their car wouldn’t start, or stuff like that. People like me.

I hit the call button.

The cop was super nice, and he said, “Ma’am, do you need us to send an ambulance?”

Good grief, PLEASE don’t send an ambulance!!!

“No, no, I’m good. I just need someone to take me to my car,” I mumbled.

In less than five minutes, a cop pulled around to take me to my vehicle. And he asked if I could drive home. Yep, most definitely. I would make it home if I had to drive with my left foot all the way.

I will say, though, that it’s nice to know that even with dumb situations like mine, the cops were super friendly and helpful. They didn’t act like I was wasting their time (which is what I felt like) or that I was an idiot for tripping while running (also what I felt like). They were great.

So I guess next time one of them slaps a ticket on my car, I should be nicer, right?