The dive of doom
So I was out on a short little jaunt after work this week when the embarrassing happened: I fell.
I stubbed my toe on a broken sidewalk and went down like a sack of potatoes. Nothing was hurt but my pride.
This totally happened because I wasn’t paying attention. I was going through a neighborhood that wasn’t my own, and I was busy admiring all the houses around me. When I tripped, I was looking left – actually almost looking backwards. So, of course, what happens in this quiet neighborhood with no traffic? Traffic shows up. Nobody offered to see if I was OK, which was probably a good and bad thing.
I was telling my husband about it later and he said, “Did it feel like it was happening in slow motion?”
Yes. It did feel like that. Because I was in slow motion. That’s when I realized that when it comes to running, everything I do is slow. Even falling.
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