I have been an athlete for most of my life. Running, rowing, playing soccer, and more has helped me develop strength, endurance, balance, flexibility, and the mental toughness to push through, even when it hurts.
But I have a confession to make…
My name is Amy and I am a klutz.
It may seem that the two – athlete and klutz – don’t go together. But, trust me, they can. And, in my case, they mesh together so well that you often don’t know if I am working so hard that I push to the extreme or if I simply tripped myself.
This topic came (painfully) to mind tonight whilst out for a walk. I decided it was a nice night and I should run some bleachers at the high school. Now, I run bleachers there all the time, so this is no big deal. EXCEPT, I decided to change things up tonight. See, I ALWAYS start on the left of the bleacher and run up the left side of the aisle, then down the right. Mostly because that is the way I usually approach them so it makes sense. But tonight I came upon them from the other side and thought, “What the heck? I’ll start on this side.” Famous last words…
Halfway up the FIRST set of stairs, I completely lost my way. It was like I didn’t know where I was and everything was so different. I was feeling off and then a series of things happened (I think, it was all a blur at the time). I think I caught my hand in my iPod cord and then I stumbled and next thing I know I am falling. Never a good thing on a set of metal stairs. All I know is that I have a bruised bump on the front of my left ankle and a cut and bruise on the outside of my right thigh (where I unceremoniously landed on the corner of a metal seat). Ouch!
I sat there and nursed my wounds for a little bit but then sucked it up and kept running. Because that is what you do (unless you’ve actually broken something, in which case, at least my case, you try to wrap it up and keep going, but when it ends up hurting too much you give it up and put ice on it. And then, when that doesn’t work, you reluctantly head to the emergency room. Been there, done that).
The idea for this blog came during that run, as my thigh and ankle throbbed, but not enough to stop me from running. Merely a flesh wound. I have injured myself too many times to count, both during workouts and during other really difficult tasks, such as… walking (ask me sometime about my run in with some dastardly gravel on my way to class one day. A slip, a fall, blood running down my leg during class – such fun!). Or the time I had made it through a long run for crew and just had to make it around the corner, when I tripped and fell and ripped up my leg. More blood. OR, the time I got through an entire mountain bike trail and was simply riding down the gravel path towards the car when my tires slipped and I wiped out. Blood. The list can go on.
Not surprisingly, I have a lot of scars on my body. Sometimes they bother me. But usually I try to see them for what they are – evidence that I have lived in this body. Used it. Put it out there and pushed it to its limits.
Or, I could just admit the truth – I am a klutz. And klutzes have scars. Because… klutziness. Not that I’ll let that stop me.
P.S. When I told my teenage son about my fall, I received this response – “Mom! You are embarrassing me!” I’m touched by his concern.