So I went out for my little three mile jog this evening. The weather was beautiful. I felt so good, I decided to push my pace up a notch.

At about the half-mile point, my right foot caught a buckle in the asphalt.

My ankle didn't twist.

I didn't stumble.

Nope. In an instant I went from a completely vertical position, to a completely horizontal position.

Luckily, when I landed, my face avoided contact with the pavement. My chin and nose just sort of "kissed" the asphalt as the rest of my body landed and then skidded across the street.

Unfortunately, when I landed, only my face and feet where spared.

The damage report: both knees are scraped, the right knee is pretty swollen, the palms of both hands lost a layer of flesh, the fingers on my left hand are nicked and cut, my right fore arm is skinned, and I have brush burns on my thighs and stomach.

Adrenaline is a beautiful thing. I popped back up and jogged my bloodied body home.

The fall proved to be the most pleasant part of this experience. As I went through the process of scrubbing bits of dirt and gravel from my open wounds, I alternately felt like I was going to either throw up or pass out.

Asphalt hurts.

I still have a job.

I still don't completely understand why I allowed things to transpire in the manner they did. I'll be beating myself up about this one for a long time.

At this point I'm just thankful that everything seems to be alright.