It had been a grueling training session at boxing today. I had blazed it to the club to be there for about 6:30am because I had a intro Boxfit class to teach at 7am. By the time my boxers filed out of the club it was 8:15am and I had only fifteen minutes to gear up and start my warm-up because then one of Coach Brown's personal training clients would be stepping into the ring with me to do some ring work with me.
Ring work with her was followed by my own training and then Coach Brown took me out for breakfast after it all. By then it was coming up to 10:30am and I had been up since 5:30am.
I was walking home from breakfast, still super sweaty and of course exhausted from the training and the lengthy morning, when suddenly I passed by Starbucks and two dirty, old men started yelling out numbers. I thought those numbers in my mind and then no sooner did I realize that they must be yelling out numbers with regards to a woman's body one of them yelled "you're not those numbers" to me and laughed. They both started to laugh and then mumble something between themselves. I had packed on the layers -- training clothes, sweater, and my parka winter jacket -- so you couldn't see my body much less see anything but my head sticking out of all this material and my Adidas kicks.
I stopped in front of them to give them a piece of my mind but instead just shook my head and someone else spoke up on my behalf. A business man who had approached from behind me had overheard what the two dirty men had said to me and totally took it upon himself to tell them off. I had started to walk away at this point so I didn't hear what the business man had leaned in and told them but they stopped, turned and walked away. It was then that the business man ran up to me and grabbed me by wrist. I turned around, looked at him with confusion and then he said, "Let's go. I'm buying you a cofffee my friend". And that's exactly what we did. He really didn't say anything to me beyond giving a little joke to me at the end, when he gave the lady the money for my coffee. He told me "Your numbers are perfect, whatever they are" and then he left, leaving me to wait for the lady behind the counter to make my coffee.
Consider this a faith restored kind of story. I love Torontonians and my love for them is crazy high but this was an unexpected story that happened that only proved just how awesome Torontonians can be. Sure those two dirty, old men weren't awesome but look at who the hero was in the story -- not me but some random business men heading off to work; a Torontonian.
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