My first mistake was trying to be healthy, and my last was trying not to be awkward in front of others. In between were several months of relative calm, followed by a few intense moments of sheer panic, during which time my pumping adrenaline served only to make matters much, much worse.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Like all good stories, we have to start at the beginning.
It was mid-February, and I had been noticing a substantial increase in my abdominal circumference, not to mention a substantial decrease in the number of garments I owned that didn’t cut off my circulation. Now, while certainly a disappointing turn of events, this was by no means something new; no, this was standard winter stuff, and so I already had a strategy in place to address it.
Flipping open my laptop, I was soon signed up for a half-marathon that was to take place in May. You see, committing to a public race had always been a pretty foolproof way for me to kick the winter doldrums and get active again. After all, the last thing I needed was to waddle through 13.1 miles of sheer agony while worrying about such things as severe thigh chafing.
Feeling satisfied with myself, I closed my laptop knowing that I’d taken a first step in the right direction, and from that point on I was forced to get out and run several times a week, regardless of the weather. While it wasn’t necessarily a health-and-fitness silver bullet, I was soon trending in the right direction, by which I mean I could now run more than two miles straight without having to collapse into the bushes to catch my breath.
Fast-forward to late April, where I found my training plan telling me to run 10 miles. Unfortunately, my schedule was tight that day, and so I decided to simply use the 3.2 mile loop near my house. While I’m not a huge fan of running the same loop multiple times over, it was the most efficient method for the time I had available; I’d just run the 0.3 miles for my house to the trail, do the loop 3 times, and I’d basically be at 10! Also, I’d be able to take advantage of the loop by planting a water bottle in the bushes, allowing me to hydrate every 3.2 miles. Deciding on the “Go Big or Go Home” philosophy, I grabbed a liter-sized, flimsy plastic bottle, filled it with water, and got ready to go.
As soon as I stepped outside, I realized I had an issue to contend with: running from my house to the loop with the bulky water bottle. Now, any rational person would have just walked the 0.3 miles to the loop and started there, but I am far from a rational person. Instead, I am intensely stubborn – usually for no good reason whatsoever – and since I’d already made up my mind to run from my house to the loop, that’s what I was going to do!! So, tucking the water bottle under my arm like a football, I was on my way.
Immediately, I began to feel like an idiot. The water in the bottle was sloshing back and forth loudly, and I quickly began to wonder what any passerby would think if they saw me. (“Where’s he going? The Sahara?”) I was now jogging on the sidewalk, and looking ahead, I saw a man walking towards me, probably about a quarter-mile away. Irrationally, I began to try and figure out a way around running past him. Maybe he was almost home from a walk and would soon turn off into one of the nearby houses! Or maybe a vicious dog would materialize out of the blue and begin to chase him in the opposite direction! Or maybe my best option would be to stop and casually pretend to water some random flowers until he’d passed!
It was at this point that my brain gave up completely on monitoring my immediate surroundings, which was why I never noticed that the square of sidewalk in front of me was set much higher than the one I was currently on, leaving a protruding ledge directly in my path. As a result, my toe ran squarely into it, and I suddenly found myself stumbling forward.
In retrospect, I should have accepted defeat immediately and just gotten it over with, using whatever balance I had left to launch myself on an angle into the nearby grass, where I could have enjoyed a relatively comfortable – albeit still embarrassing – landing on a soft surface. However, my brain instead went on red alert and issued the following command: “PINWHEEL YOUR ARMS AROUND FRANTICALLY IN A HIGHLY NOTICEABLE MANNER!!!!!! MAYBE YOU CAN REGAIN YOUR BALANCE!!!! GO GO GO GO GO!!!!!!”
And so I began to pinwheel my arms.
Frantically.
Jettisoning all non-essential equipment, the bottle of water went flying, and somehow I was able to stay on my feet for a few long, loping steps, desperately trying to pull out of my nosedive. During this time I was bent over at the waist, all while my arms were looping around in giant spirals that screamed, “Hey, everybody! Look over here!! I’m about to comically fall over!!!” Very flattering stuff.
Eventually, my momentum got the better of me, and suddenly I found myself horizontal with the sidewalk. For a long moment I simply hung there in mid-air, contemplating the many mistakes I’d made to get into this situation. Then, choosing against using my face as my primary stopping mechanism, I shot my arms out and used the palms of my hands to skid to an uneven stop on the sidewalk.
Have a nice trip. See you next fall.
Immediately, I was back up on my feet, pretending that nothing had happened. (“What are you looking at? My legs have always bent this way!!”) Casually, I picked up the water bottle from the grass, which was somehow still intact. Then, without even inspecting the damage I’d incurred, I went back to jogging, my ears burning red and the bottle again tucked under my arm. When I passed the man I’d seen earlier, I made sure not to make any eye contact, and he was nice enough to keep whatever mirth he was feeling to himself, although I’m quite certain at some point later on he laughed himself silly.
It wasn’t until I’d arrived at the 3.2 mile loop that I actually took stock of the situation. Luckily, it wasn’t bad. Besides a couple of skinned palms, there was no real damage except that to my pride, and I was even able to complete the 10 miles without further incident.
Now, after hearing all of this, you may find yourself asking: Why on earth would you tell such an embarrassing story? Why not just pretend it never happened, along with potentially forgoing all public interaction for several weeks, or at least until your ears finally stopped glowing red?
Well, I believe there’s an important lesson to be learned here. You see, I think we all-too-often care more than we should about how we’re perceived by others, and doing so can lead from something as innocuous as feeling awkward about carrying a bulky water bottle as you run to you suddenly hanging horizontal in mid-air, trying to pick out a landing spot that will hurt the least. Personally, it’s been an eye-opener for me, to the point where I’ve since made a resolution that I firmly intend to keep, one that I believe will lead to me enjoying a much more fulfilling life: No more trying to be healthy!!! It leads to nothing but trouble!
Now, if you excuse me, I have a pizza on the way. Ain’t nobody gonna fall down eating that!
