God Beats Darwin

In this world, there are those who are not only accident prone, but incident prone. What is incident prone you may ask. Well, it is those people who always end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. The ones that die because of such incident proneness fall into Class A. Those who are severely injured, must enter the Witness Protection program, or acquire any other extreme, though not fatal emotional and physical damage fall into Class B. People who make it out of “wrong place, wrong time” incidents with a few minor injuries are Class C. I belong to this latter category.
Ever since my wonderful father got my potato shaped body of the couch in seventh grade, I have been addicted to running. I am one of those who like trail running in particular. Give me a less traveled dirt trail through some woods and you have given me a tiny slice of what I hope heaven is like. I have been training for the “Hurt in the Dirt” race for awhile and yesterday I upped my intensity per say. There is this nice little paved path that loops around downtown Salt Lake that I was intending to go on. When I reached City Creek, however, I saw there was a dirt trail on the other side of the river that looked promising. I was not disappointed in what it had to offer: tons of rough terrain, trees everywhere, and marijuana. I had been running for about two miles when I slipped off a particularly rough part of the path and got my right leg covered in blood and dirt. Normal people would have realized the trail only gets worse after this point and turned around. Good thing I am normal. I trudged forward proud of the blood pouring down my leg and the dirt smudges on my face. As I went into the heart of the woods, a sickening sweet smell filled my lungs. Another signal to turn my butt around. I kept going, wanting to hit that hour mark before turning back. The smell became stronger as I pushed forward and I eventually saw something that did get me to turn around. A camouflaged army tent with some intense hand made fortifications. You know what? They could have just been innocent campers chilling out in the heart of the woods where no one really goes and where it takes an hour to reach civilization. I convinced myself of this, but still obeyed the warning signals going off in my head, “Go back you idiot girl”. As I ran back, I took a fork in the path and ran about a mile before encountering 6 guys right off the path getting high. Terrified, I sped up a bit and was banking on the idea they were too high to chase me, aim a bullet at my skull, or even care that I was there. As I sprinted into the brush, I heard one of them go, “Dude, where was she coming from? Do you think she saw the stuff?” I like to think by "stuff" he meant what they were smoking opposed to the possible marijuana field behind the army tent further back. While making it back to civilization, I pondered why I had escaped a possibly dangerous situation. Class C people generally escape by means of intellect, quick thinking skills, intuition, or by the aid of good Samaritan like people. Since none of these are ever really applicable in my life aside from the good Samaritans, I realize it was divine providence. I had gone to the SLC temple just prior to my run and was being blessed despite my idiocy. God beat Darwin. Natural selection would have wiped my sorry self out long ago, but divine providence has made sure I made it to this point of life. I realize this trend might not continue much longer, ergo, I have determined to go to the temple before every run from now on. Happy and Safe Running to You All!