First things first – sick update. I am now allowed to workout, kind of. Basically i’m allowed to mall walk. So if anyone feels the hankering to throw on a pair of SAS shoes and make a few laps past the Orange Julius and Spencer’s Gifts then please join me.
Some of you may have seen my status update titled: “nothing quite beats tripping & falling on your face on your way into work like doing it while holding a crockpot of buffalo chicken dip”. What you didn’t see before that was my excitement to wear high heels since I haven’t since I’ve been sick and my near trip right before that where I was able to catch myself and laughed thinking how embarassing it would be if I actually did fall. Then later in the day with all of my grace my high heel once again got caught in my pant leg and I fell for a third time, in the vestibule of my office building. I’m sure there is fantastic security footage.
I don’t know when I became so clumsy. I was always able to run without falling – that is until I started trail running. Every few minutes or so on the trail the sun would shine through a spot in the trees that would blind me and then my foot would find the most perfect root to trip on – I’d usually go down pretty fast on what can only be described as jagged fricking rocks that bite. Miraculously during a 50 mile trail ultramarathon through the Mark Twain National Forest (to the locals its known as the Samuel Clemens Nat’l Forest) I fell only once. I made up for it when I promptly tried to cleanse the wounds with anti-bacterial hand sanitizer (read: alcohol on open wounds).
One would think that I should refrain from mobile activities before I put myself completely out of commission – but I proved a crowd wrong this past Thanksgiving.
Scene: kitchen at my sister “Ndrea”s house.
My sister’s kitchen is nice and open and tiled, which proved to be the best dance floor ever (you can’t tell in the tone of my writing but that “ever” was actually sung and a little bit drawn out). Her friend “Ancy” was the perfect ballerina performing pirouette after pirouette, kids slid across in their socks while trying to moonwalk, and I managed a good shuffle-ball-change and the robot. It was like this for the entire weekend of whimsy and turkey and thanks. The evening of Thanksgiving after all had died down and all nine kids were in bed the adults (that includes me) started to prepare for board games. A part of that preparation was eating the best food in the world – chips and dips. We stood around the kitchen counter to partake of the goods when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, my feet slipped right out from under me. I found myself laying on my back, looking up at the ceiling and a few faces, holding my inured elbow (it beautifully slammed into the counter during my voyage to the cold tile) and tears of laughter began to gush out. Once everyone was able to regain compsure from their own fits of laughter they asked what happened. There was no reason, no to to trip on, no one pushed me, I just plain old fell.