The Macabre Reality of Life

                Today I witnessed the most violent death that I ever have, and ever hope to.  It was not a murder, but an accident.  It was not a human death, but rather, an animal.  However, it was a violent death nonetheless.  I hope never to witness such an event again, or personally be involved in such a tragedy. 

                I was driving down the interstate to get to a work appointment, and a pretty strong deluge was in play.  The usual 70 miles per hour speed limit was limiting all vehicles to a more reasonable 50 to 55 miles per hour, as the windshield wipers on all vehicles were on high swipe, or at least should have been.  Despite it being three in the afternoon, the dark overcast skies were much more reminiscent of dusk, as the occasional lightning streak would illuminate the black-gray clouds above in the typically awesome display of nature. 

                Just ahead, perhaps a mile or two, you could see the skies clearing and I was looking forward to seeking asylum from the onslaught of rain for safety purposes and, ironically, being able to accelerate back to the ol’ 70 mph speed limit mark again.  Traffic was pretty heavy due to the rain as well as it being a commercial area with a mall and a very established business district.  The cars in all five lanes began to accelerate back to more normal velocities, myself included.

                Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw what took me a moment to process.  Is that a dog?  Yes.  Indeed, it was a large dog, perhaps 70 to 90 pounds, that resembled a German Shepherd, at least in part.  I saw its profile, looking around in confusion at the fast-moving vehicles on the interstate. S/he continued to trot along across the highway, and the car to the right of me honked at him, swerved slightly, and successfully avoided him.  The dog continued its trajectory toward the center of the interstate, and came into my lane.  I, too, successfully avoided him as I instantly checked my driver’s side mirror for clearance and swerved slightly to my left into the fast lane to avoid him.  Now that I was in front of him, I watched in my driver’s side mirror in hopes that he would be safe at least during the stretch of highway that he was still within my visual range.

He proceeded to cross into the high-speed lane, the left-most lane, and instantly was struck by a white Hyundai mid-size SUV full-on, hitting the front bumper on the passenger’s side.  The driver was probably going at least 75 to 80 miles per hour, as I could see she was gaining on me slightly at the time.

His body instantly shattered into what looked like a thousand pieces!  It reminded me of works by surrealist Salvador Dali, with paintings of figures exploded into segments.  It was an incredible sight and terribly disturbing.  Instantly I yelled in horror as my heart went into the shocked panic of staccato anxious beats.  After about 15-seconds of oh-oh-horror-expletives, I simply grasped my head and rewound the image I had just witnessed over and over.

The unlucky driver of the white SUV instantly slowed down a bit, but remained in the fast lane for half-mile or so, then cut over three lanes and eventually into the slow-lane.  I am still not sure if she knew what she had hit, as it happened so quickly.  By this point on the highway, the lanes decreased back to four across the width of one side with off-ramp exits branching toward various semi-suburban areas. 

Despite being in the slow-lane, she still gained on me over the course of several miles, and I couldn’t help but be curious as to what reaction I may be able to discern from her, even considering slowing down to be nosey and take a quicky-glance in her direction.  I felt guilty and was tempted, but never had the opportunity, as she had gotten off the interstate, perhaps to check out the damage to her vehicle.

The SUV bumper was made out of the typical hard-shell plastic, and this thing was cracked heavily.  I was surprised to see that it had no noticeable trace of blood or marks on it, however.  It had a long vertical crack along the front of the bumper on the passenger side, but it appeared that the forward velocity of the vehicle at that high of speed simply exploded this dog in his/her entirety in that same forward direction.  Simple physics, I suppose.  Nasty.  Poor ol’ dog…  The sole comfort I can seek from witnessing this awful event is to think that its suffering was limited temporally, as the event occurred in less than one second: from the point of impact to the complete physical dislocation of all essential body parts that comprise life as a complex physical entity.  Goodness!  I truly hope that its ability to process pain was limited to a spectacularly short timeframe.  I didn’t see what happened to the dog’s head, except that from the vantage point of the driver’s side mirror, the dog’s entire body comprised no more than two centimeters or thereabouts as a reflection on the mirror at impact.  Hopefully the head, too, exploded nearly instantaneously…

So I reflected on this awful experience as I drove, and immediately thought to myself: you know, the fact that my life and social context in which I derive my reality allows me to think about this as seriously unpleasant is something to be acknowledged.  I am not a child living in Iraq… nor Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, or countless other places in the world that witness atrocities of war and violence, some on a daily basis for their entire lives.  But then again, there are certainly areas in the United States that have such incredibly disparate inequities that their lives are not far-off from the daily stress and strains of a war-torn world.  Still, I am certainly not coming across dead bodies and smelling death and decay.

I also thought about the recent tragedy in Japan, where tens of thousands perished in those moments of terror, derived from the great earthquake and tsunami earlier this month.  So many individuals lost, whose bodies have yet to be recovered, if ever at all!  Speaking of Japan, what about the atomic bomb from 1945, during World War II?  In an instant, people’s physical bodies simply disintegrated into elemental molecules and atoms as the intense heat from the nuclear blast simply obliterated those individuals who were within the immediate impact zone.  Those poor souls who were just beyond that radius of what could arguably have been a welcome immediate death, suffered intense burns that resulted in skin that melted off the bone, eyes that fell out of the eye-sockets, and the curse of not dying instantly, as they endured their last pangs of life in utter pain and discomfort.

I witnessed the death of someone’s beloved pet dog, likely trying to find his way back home after becoming lost in the irrational matrix of human social “order”: the completely unnatural, socially constructed “concrete jungle” that I occupy and live within as though it is a natural manifestation.  My experience of witnessing this event was terrible and awful.  But when compared to the human suffering occurring concurrently around the world, thanks largely to politics and the already created momentum of the advancement of “progress”, my personal exposure pales in comparison. 

Let us experience to the fullest those things which we are subjected to.  However, let us also experience to the fullest those things which we do not choose to be subjected to.  Life is unpredictable and full of variables that we cannot control nor even account for.  Therefore the best one can do is to experience life as it happens, and acknowledge it.  Sometimes, there is nothing one can do.  Things just happen.  If you’re fortunate enough to witness an event and survive, then accept the responsibility to acknowledge and deal with it.  That is the primary human condition: survival within an unpredictable world.  If you’re living your life in awareness, you’re ahead of the game: don’t take anything in life for granted.  Easier said than done, but the returns are exponential for every moment lived fully.  Accepting that life is forever partnered with death can only enhance one’s understanding of the ephemeral nature of life, and appreciating it for what it offers at any given moment.

Gentlemen, Cover Thy Nipples

                I love running outside, despite the weather or temperature for the most part.  This is because my runs are generally half-hour runs, a manageable timeframe for most weather conditions sans a deluge, single-digit (Fahrenheit) temperatures or less, or absurdly icy conditions.  I don’t enjoy running indoors because I feel like a hamster running in a wheel.  I mean, if I have a misstep, or if I look over to my side while running on a treadmill, serious disaster could ensue!  The machine will keep whirring at a constant tempo, as I envision my face hitting the sand-belt-like moving ground, leaving me with the most hellacious rug-burn ever… or even worse.  Furthermore, there are bound to be witnesses in the gym from whom you can’t just walk away from as though nothing happened, whereas if you’re outside, any witnesses would be either in a vehicle that is passing by or pedestrians who have their own respective destinations to get to.  The embarrassment is much more ephemeral, if at all, since there’s always a chance that no one saw you bite the dust.  If you’re tired or fatigued outside, you can slow down or stop at will, and the ground will not forsake you.  You need not be a slave to the sand-belt-moving-ground-torture.

                I am presently training to run in a marathon.  No, no, I am by no means an accomplished athlete.  Far from it, as a matter of fact.  However, I do derive pleasure and totally unnecessary egotistical inflation from pushing myself to run ridiculous amounts of miles.  To the relief of those around me, this maniacal ego boost doesn’t occur too often, since I typically run outside by myself.  I never run with a group, although many have sung the praises of being part of a running group.  (Namely, I am intimidated about running with others because those groups have some seriously elite runners mixed in there.  You know, those obsessive types who are addicted to running.  There are runners, and there are crazies.) 

                Anyhoo, in recent weeks, I have hit the treadmill a couple of times in lieu of running outdoors due to some crazy rain storms that have been coming through.  Also, even if it’s a mild rain, it becomes too uncomfortable running outdoors when one must endure the “long run” of the week, which was about 2 ½ hours for me yesterday.  So I opted to walk to the Y in the rain and bite the bullet. 

                Most treadmill hamsters are on for half an hour, or an hour at most.  Many walk at a brisk pace or mix it up by walking and jogging.  I, however, am training for the marathon!  I cannot subject myself to such luxuries as short runs or simple jog-walk-jog-walk combos!  I must endure my long run!  So there!  Just watch as I, a running machine, put you to shame.  I can’t help but notice that my pat-a-pat-a-pats of my feet against the whrrrrrr of the sand-belt are more upbeat and faster than anyone’s!  My breathing?  Steady and relaxed; one with the whrrrr!  Plus look at my treadmill.  It’s moving up and down ‘cause I’m doing hills.  Take that!  Oh, there goes another one: she got on after me and got off before me.  Look at me.  I’m still going.  What now?  Got something to say?  Yeah.  I thought so.  What’s that?  You’re just jealous.  What?  Did you call me a loser?  Okay.  Um, I have nothing to say to that.  You’re right, of course.  So what?  My dad can beat up your dad.

                Last night, the air was so still in the workout room.  Maybe because there were so many people in there and the treadmill that I grabbed was one of the center-most ones in the room.  Ever notice how when there are treadmills lined up, people generally stagger to occupy every other treadmill until those are all filled, then the open ones get chosen by default.  It’s kind of like picking teams for kickball and you’re always one of the last ones picked.  Yes, that was me.  The default loser…  Obviously I’m still reeling from such treatment during childhood which now manifests as self-inflating ego-needs described above.  Wait a second.  That describes this entire blog!  That’s what motivates my writings.  I am running away from my status of the “big L”!  How depressing…  But I digress!

It was freakin’ steamin’ in hamster central.  I was wearing a wicking shirt made from soy materials that I’d never worn before, and within a short while, I was dripping uncontrollably.  Within the first hour, my shirt was thoroughly soaked, but the wicking was allowing the excess waste-sweat to succumb to gravity.  Bucketful after bucketful of sweaty nasties trickled their way down onto my running shorts, which were grey.  However, as I took quick (careful) glances down, my grey shorts were resembling black shorts, no thanks to the sweaty tricklies.  Pretty soon, my shorts began to feel like poopy diapers from the added weight that first permeated in totality the built-in inner shorts, and eventually my shorts in its entirety.  The shorts were now plastered onto my legs as I continued my pat-pat-pats against the whrrr.  Nevertheless, “badass” undoubtedly echoed through the collective minds of all those in the gym this night, as they bore witness to my toughness.

                As mentioned, my cool-ass soy shirt was drenched.  Such conditions cause exceptional friction against one's chest as your body moves up and down and the shirt rubs up and down against you.  After 2 ¼ hours, I looked down at my bright yellow shirt and noticed a streak of bright red snaking its way down the front of my shirt.  Damn it!  There it was: the bleeding right nipple!  I could feel both nipples being tender but didn’t anticipate bleeding nipple syndrome today!  Ironically, during lunch on this very day I had just talked about men’s need to wear Band-Aids over their nipples when running marathons because of this exact seriously painful chafing problem!  (Even worse, I actually picked up and pocketed an unopened Band-Aid that I found on the floor of an elevator during work today.)  I just didn’t anticipate that my cool-ass soy shirt was going to succumb to such vicious attacks from physics.  I was bummed.  To throw salt upon my wounds, the chafing upon certain “hot spots” in my derriere region is omnipresent as well.  Next time I run in the heat, I will have to resort to Vaseline to cover such sensitive areas.  And of course, I must protect myself with Band-Aids, although it would not surprise me at all if laziness and wishful thinking may overrule rationality, as I take my chances against mein enemy (feind), physics.