Proof that exercise can kill you

Saturday was the finest Saturday we've had here in the Capital, temperature wise, since like October. So feeling industrious, and a little chubby, I threw on the running shoes and set out to make my first circuit of the National Mall since fall.

Pretty good run. Until I got hit by a car.

I'm in the home stretch, at 7th street heading east, waiting for the crosswalk light like a good pedestrian. Light turns to walk. I look right, look left, then look at my feet and take a big breath and launch myself into the crosswalk and out of the corner of my eye see an SUV that -- holy shit! -- isn't stopping.

Frequent readers will recall that the one thing I learned from snowboarding is how to fall, a lot, without hurting myself. Turned out to be a useful experience.

I turn toward the SUV, a dark green Chevy Blazer. It's slowed to maybe 10 or 15 mph by the time we make contact. My hands hit the hood, its bumper hits my shin, I spin to my right, out of the street, its bumper glances my other leg, and I land in a sort of crouch.

I'm not sure who's luckier -- me or the idiot driver. I wasn't hurt too bad -- a nasty bruise and scrapes on my shin. So I pick myself up, walk up to the driver's window (I'm pretty sure he almost kept going), and let fly with some profanity.

Guy says he's new to the country, didn't see the light, very sorry, blah blah. We go our separate ways; I didn't see much reason to get the cops involved.

The moral of the story: when you're on foot in D.C., jaywalk. It's safer.