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You've got to be able to laugh As we already know, I'm a bit on the clumsy side. I bang into walls, routinely hit my head, and constantly trip over my own two feet. Through all of this, I rarely injury myself seriously. A few bumps and bruises, and I'm off and running again.
This weekend was so beautiful, R and I decided to go rollerskating (rollerblading for him). I prefer skates because I'm on four wheels in a quad set-up, instead of inline. More balance, which is very important for me.
We were doing fine until we turned around and were faced with going back down the hill we'd had to go up earlier. It wasn't particularly steep, but let's be honest, I don't need steep to cause problems. I started out okay, and but was picking up speed fast enough to concern me, so instead of heading all the way to the bottom, I decided to try to make the ease off on to the bike lane.
That's where it all went wrong. One moment I was up, the next I was tumbling over. I'm now left with bumps, bruises, cuts, scrapes, and a knee swollen enough to look like a boiled egg. My wedding band and engagement ring are all scraped up on the bottom. But in spite of all of this? I just want to laugh. First because it's really so ridiculous. I'm just a walking disaster. More than that, though, I want to laugh because as R put it, "All the bruises and scrapes mean you're out living." And I'll take that over being holed up inside any day of the week.
Sure, it hurts. And it's ugly. And it'll interfere with my ability to zumba properly for a while. But really it's almost a badge of honor, and I'll take it.
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