[originally posted: 4/18/2017]
Clumsy McGee! I need to take better care of myself. When I fall, I’m doing less bouncing these days and more flopping dully around on the ground.
This is what happens when I try to race a greyhound. Well, I should rephrase that because I’ve gone jogging with him multiple times–this is what happens when I decide to spontaneously sprint, while wearing slip-on ballet flats, tripping at close to my personal maximum speed:
As my sister commented after, “I didn’t see you fall, but I did see you roll around on the ground.” As much as I’m embarrassment by it, the image I have of myself in that statement doesn’t fail to also make me laugh as I hang my head…
There were two thoughts that I distinctly remember having: looking down at my feet, ‘Shit, I’m going down’, and, as I felt it slip over my wrist and down my hand, ‘DO NOT let go of that leash’. And I didn’t! (The dog got a little choked, but he’s totally fine.)
I jacked up my knee pretty good this time. But, even if it takes a little longer for me to get back up, I don’t stay down for too long. Some peroxide, cute band-aids, tlc, and I’m ready to go.
I was mad at myself for awhile after this, asking myself why I’m the kind of person that seems to lack the common sense and forethought to prevent these careless and unnecessary injuries; what inferences can be made from that about other parts of my life. While I don’t deny there’s some truth to that and acknowledge that I can behave with avoidable recklessness, I was really down until I thought about how walking in wet sand on the beach instills an urge to do cartwheels down the shoreline even though I might overstretch a muscle, that sometimes I get so excited with a rush of energy that I dash without reason down the street just to see how fast my own two legs can carry me.
I find incredible joy in hanging from branches, climbing to the top of rock formations, and finding that perfect beautiful view that can’t be seen from the trail. Unfortunately, not all of these opportunities align with wearing the proper footgear.
There is a middle ground that doesn’t involve me falling on my face and leaving some of my skin behind me on the road, besides always wearing steel toed sneakers. I was considering getting my motorcycle license this year, but without an overwhelming desire to do so, I should probably not tempt the cosmos and instead exercise that thing called ‘good judgement’ by forget about this one.
