Splat! Part 1

I recently celebrated a rather momentous-but-troubling birthday, and – in the spirit of meeting all of life’s challenges head on – I decided that my best option was to simply ignore that it had happened in the first place. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Well, as it turns out, just because it’s out of mind doesn’t necessarily mean your body still isn’t paying attention, especially when it comes to situations of a chronological nature. Let me explain. Several weeks later I was playing wallyball, which – for those unaware – is basically a game of volleyball that takes place in a racquetball court. This is one of my favorite sports, mainly because it’s very easy for players to lose their bearings while trying to track the ball and run full speed into a wall. Now, while I realize that it’s absurdly childish to be amused by this, I honestly don’t care. I mean, it’s hilarious!! Plus, it’s not like all of my juvenile behavior was building up a bunch of bad karma or anything!

Or was it?

It had been a fun night, and we were playing what would probably be our last game of the evening. However, instead of winding down I found myself getting more and more intense, probably in an attempt to prove that I’d never really celebrated that momentous-but-troubling birthday. Suddenly, the ball was hanging up near the net, and I jumped like I had a million times before, trying to make a play. This was when my body – which has always had a terrible sense of timing – chose that very moment to give up on performing anything of an athletic nature ever again, and I suddenly came crashing down to the ground for absolutely no reason at all.

It sort of looked like this

Now, I’m normally pretty good at falling down – probably due to a lifetime’s worth of practice – but this time it was different, as I somehow managed to sequentially land weirdly on both of my legs. (My theory is that I was too busy flailing about wildly and/or screeching like a child to devote enough brain power to sticking the landing.) About a second later I found myself sitting on the ground, feeling warning signals emanating from both my left knee and right ankle. Immediately I knew my male pride was on the line. I couldn’t be injured! And, if I somehow was, I was going to need to walk it off, not to mention make some sort of dry, humorous comment about needing to just “tape it up.” So, calling upon every ounce of stubbornness and courage I had in my body, I made a Herculean effort and heroically managed to move myself about an inch.

Uh-oh.

By this time people were gathering around, wondering why I’d decided to fall over for no good reason at all. I brushed off their concern, saying it was no big deal, but I think I lost a lot of credibility when I then tried to scoot over to the door on my butt. Thankfully, after a few minutes of rest I was able to stand up and walk off under my own power, which led to a thunderous round of applause from the crowd that exists in my head for just such an occasion. (Looking back, I wish I’d have given a thumbs up as I stepped out into the hallway.)

Calling upon the power of deductive reasoning, I guessed that my right ankle was sprained, mainly because it no longer resembled a right ankle, and I assumed the same was true with my left knee. While not a great turn of events, it seemed manageable, as I was still moving around with relative ease. In fact, I was able to get cleaned up, walk out to my car, and drive home without much trouble, all while being able to make a few dry, humorous comments. (“It’s no big deal. I was getting sick of my feet pointing in the same direction, anyway.”) However, by the time I’d parked my car in the garage, my lower-body motor skills had begun to erode dramatically, to the point where going up the stairs to my bedroom seemed on par with climbing Mount Everest. So, I decided to sleep in the chair in the living room (chair nap!), all while cursing my momentous-but-troubling birthday. Closing my eyes, I hoped that everything would miraculously turn out better in the morning, but, unfortunately, I was going to be sorely (har!) disappointed. That, however, is a story for another day…