I have a history of stepping off into space and
landing on my ass. I underestimate how many stairs there may be, I pay no
attention to where the sidewalk ends, and I never seem to see that gaping hole I'm
about to step in. The result of all those falls is that I have developed a very
good sense of how to fall. There is no thrusting my hand out in front of
myself, trying to break the fall. If you do try, the only thing you'll break is
a bone. Now yes, I do get scraped up, but not that badly. Most importantly, I
don't turn my ankles so much anymore. The minute I feel that terra firma giving
way, I go with the flow, I tuck and roll.
Yesterday opened up as a beautiful clear day, so Scout
and I went out for one last walk before the blast of super cold air moved in.
Two blocks down and two blocks back around. Across cracked pavement, wet
patches, and curbs. I moved along not missing a step. Until we came to our own
front sidewalk, a sidewalk in perfect shape. Not a crack, not a flaw in it, yet
I managed to step off the edge. Immediately my tuck and roll brain kicked in.
As Scout tugged on the leash I grabbed tightly onto it and rolled right off the
sidewalk and into the mushy, wet lawn. By the time the lady across the street came
running up, asking if I was okay, I had rolled my fat ass back up onto the
sidewalk and was already dragging myself up on my feet. Yeah, I'm really good
at falling down.
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| The extent of my injuries. |
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