The Fall

I knew it would happen. In the three years I’ve been going to the gym, I have watched poor souls fall, trip, lose their rhythm on the treadmills. It’s always so embarrassing for the victim of the fall. Many times I’ve concentrated on my run or walk, just making sure I, Grace herself, do not fall.

Tuesday morning, while walking hills on the treadmill, I decided I wanted to move the fan more towards me. So, I hopped off of the treadmill, adjusted the fan, and hopped back on the treadmill. . . . only I momentarily forgot the treadmill was MOVING!!!

. . . And down she went. . . .

In a split second, I fell, grabbing the handle bar of the treadmill, only to be further stretched from the handle bar to the very edge of the treadmill. Because it’s still moving!!!

It was a never-ending cycle! What seemed like an eternity probably only lasted 2 seconds, and I was soon back up and walking my hills like I’ve never tripped. Luckily, the only witness to this escapade was the old man I call Moses. Moses, who’s older than dirt and walks a brisk 2.0 mph on his treadmill each morning looked as startled as I was. But he never said a word. Just kept right on walking.

Three days later, I have slight strawberries on my leg as proof of this fall.

Due to feeling like poo because of sinus issues, Tuesday is my most recent visit to the gym. Tim told me this morning that Moses asked if I was okay. Poor man. He told Tim I was back up and walking before he could even stop his treadmill to check on me. Expected for someone who walks as slowly as Moses, I suppose. And Moses thought I’d hurt myself good, seeing as I’ve not been back since the fall. Sweet hubby assured him the only thing hurt from the fall is my pride.

My how true.