Post a Comment On: A Nod to Nothing

Or maybe I'm my own Tonya Harding. There's a metaphor in there involving grace, a lack of it, and feeling like someone hit me in the knees with a pipe, but I just can't quite make it work.

This morning, as I was walking up the stairs to second floor to cross the skyway and get some coffee, I slipped with a quarter cup of coffee in my hand. Afraid to splash coffee all over and/or land on shards of broken cup, I instead managed to fall about 12' up the stairs, leaving behind a black shoe streaks and a trail of coffee, like some sort of bad NASCAR accident. But not before both knees firmly connected with the first step up, just below my knee line. I managed to rip all the skin off one knee, and it really does feel like someone took a pipe to them. I should be sporting some nice bruises and serious aches by the time I do the Ironman (in 40 degree, wet, joint numbing weather) on Sunday.

Looking on the bright side of life, I did keep most of my coffee in my cup. I'm pretty sure I'm not seriously injured. I did it within sight of the corporate stairwell camera with plenty of coworkers around to appreciate my lack of grace, so there are plenty of witnesses, recorded and otherwise. And I rode 31 miles on Wednesday, so if I don't finish the Ironman, I can blame my knees - because obviously, I could have made it based on my current biking abilities.

And even with all the personal damage, I still seem better off than whoever left the smears of blood, some of it kind of pushed around, as if with a wet rag, all over the first floor stairwell alcove. That's probably someone who was too stupid to fall up.