The Kindness of Strangers
Two weeks ago while playing soccer I crunched my Achilles tendon. Bad. It’s almost a “100% rupture of the tendon,” which means I had an easy decision to make: Just let it heal and have no pushing off power for athletic activities or… go under the knife. I’m 40 and play ice hockey, soccer, and have my eye on a second marathon “soon,” so I elected to have a doctor go in and reattach it, with the idea that I’ll get my strength back — I heard 100% — in something like 2-3 months.
Have you ever started a new hobby and all of a sudden noticed all the stores and web sites and people involved who were essentially invisible to you before? Being on crutches feels like that a little. I never knew how much effort it is. Most people, busy and in a rush, are not particularly sympathetic. I’ve gotten more than my share of annoyed glances and mumbled curses.
But, there’s this invisible percentage of the population who know exactly what it’s like. And they will hold doors for you and get out of your way and wait for you and give words of encouragement. Crossing paths with someone yesterday, this stranger slowed down, giving me lots of room to hobble by, and as I passed said, “I’ve been there. I know it’s tough. Good luck.” It was an unexpected lift. In fact, yesterday, in busy downtown San Francisco, on my way back and forth from parking stupidly far away from work, four different people went out of their way to ask if I needed help, if they could hail a taxi for me, if I was doing okay. I don’t think I look pitiful — I hope not! — but they still went out of their way to offer help. Very cool.
Here’s to the kindness of strangers.