First of all, I’m fine!
In an effort to aggressively battle the calendar and entropy, about six weeks ago I started using the services of a personal trainer once a week. He’s great and does a wonderful job of leaving me feeling like I’ve been beaten like a rented mule, ridden hard, and put away wet. I usually feel sore as hell for a couple of days after our weekly sessions. This is a good thing.
But I figured I probably needed more than one session a week.
So using what I’m learning from him, I’ve re-joined the local gym so that I can use all of their equipment a couple of more days a week. Today was the first time I had gone in.
After 20 minutes on the bike, a whole slew of weight machines, 10 minutes on the rowing machine, more weight machines, I was “winding down” with 30 minutes on the treadmill. I’ve used treadmills at the gym for decades, it’s not rocket surgery.
Well, it shouldn’t be.
I don’t know what happened as I was finishing. I tried to step off to the side platform with my right foot but missed the step. Suddenly I was turning and going down.
Intro Psych 101 taught me that the two fundamental fears hardwired into the human brain are falling and loud noises. Getting off of the treadmill was a two-fer since I fell and made a loud noise.
A solid faceplant onto the treadmill belt, and then the funny parts started. There are plenty of hilarious videos out there, but they’re all accurate in one way. If you land on the treadmill belt while it’s still plugging along at 3+ miles an hour, it will deposit your pathetic ass out onto the floor behind the treadmill like a watermelon seed being squeezed out between your fingers. PAAAH-TOOOOEY!!!
My first reaction was to start laughing. It just seemed so hilarious that it really happened that way. Then all of the screaming started, and no, it wasn’t me.
A nice woman on the treadmill next to mine was hollering, asking if I was okay. I started to get up and told her I was fine. One of the trainers ran over to make sure I was okay, help me up, and make sure I wasn’t going to sue anyone. Then someone yelled about my leg and the blood.
There actually wasn’t any blood, just some belt rash and bruises. But it looks ugly.
After I stood up I could hear an alarm and realized it was my Apple Watch doing that “It Appears That You Have Fallen!!” warning screen. It’s counting down, defaulting to a call to 9-1-1, which was the last thing I would have needed at the moment. My embarrassment in front of the screaming lady on the next treadmill I could deal with. The scorn and disdain from a crew of LA County Paramedics (and the $500+ bill) as they check my blood pressure and vital signs over a road-rash-y knee? Even I have my limits.
Fortunately, it didn’t hurt at all. A little tender, but the skin abrasions seemed to be fine for about six hours. About dinner time all of those nerve endings came out of their coma and started screaming, so tonight might be “interesting” trying to sleep, but everything’s relative. It doesn’t hurt as bad as my jaw has for months after multiple cavities, three root canals, a “crown lengthening” (Google it at your own risk if squeamish), and three new crowns.
So yeah, I’m embarrassed, but that hasn’t slowed me down in the past and doesn’t seem likely to do so this time either. Just another reminder that I’m not 30 or 40 anymore. (Plus, I was a klutz at 30 and 40, so this won’t be the last time I end up doing something stupid and painful.)
The worst part is that the freaking Russian judge only gave me a 3.2. Apparently my degree of difficulty wasn’t that great, but I scored well on style points.
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 