toe throbbing to the sound of a tennis ball smacking grass

I was driving home tonight from work around 10:30pm with KEXP blaring on my radio and my possibly broken toes throbbing to the beat of a song I'd never heard before.

I kept thinking about my comment this weekend to a friend about how I'm stubbornly independent... and suddenly out of nowhere there was a flashback. I might have been stubbornly independent putting up a 2 person required for assembly and preservation of one's toes book case this weekend, but dang, I've always done things that are a bit on the ludicrous side of proving my independence... like going to Wimbledon.

I couldn't remember if I'd ever blogged about my Wimbledon experience during the summer of 2006. Apparently I had. Rereading the post I was amazed at how I didn't mention all the points during the night where I freaked out and nearly gave up... at the airport in London, in the tube station, missing the night bus, on the night bus, getting off the night bus at the wrong stop, walking in circles in a dark neighborhood with a scary drunk on the corner... those were all times I wanted to stop and go find a hotel where I could lock my door and hide and give up and cry myself silly with patheticness. Instead I called my mother once or twice for fortification - I figured if she was freaked out for me I could be less freaked out for myself - it didn't quite work, but it was a valiant effort eh? Poor poor mom!! I think I gave her a few heart attacks during my Wimbledon adventure.

I never really knew why I didn't give up - and I still can't fathom what kept me going. I think not having a backup plan was part of it; wanting to get to the dang tennis match since I'd so carefully read up on how the entire thing worked was another; knowing I might see Agassi live drove me on for a bit there too. But part of it was just wanting to do it - knowing that I could do it if I just kept going - even if the going felt like scary trudging - and that was that end of story.

In the end that's the night I slept on a sidewalk for a handful of hours before getting ridiculously sun burnt. I think of the entire escapade and laugh and wish I could do it again. So possibly broken toes or not, I guess I am stubbornly independent - and dang it's fun to feel your toe throb to the radio station as you head to your new home late at night knowing that persistence really is a virtue..... sometimes!