So, I fell off the treadmill today.
No, I don’t mean a gentle misplaced step. More like a bam, whack and a twirl.
All I was doing was walking along, minding my own business when a spaz moment struck me out of nowhere. My foot turned. My body fell and I hit the wall. Literally.
In mid spin, I felt a rather out of body experience. Too bad it didn’t last cause when I came back, everything hurt. Especially my pride.
My husband ran down the stairs. And no, he didn’t trip. Even as he scooped me up.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Stupid question. Why does everyone always ask you that?
My knee was bruised, my sweatpants were revealing way more skin than I wanted on my back end and my ipod was still blaring music though headphones that were no longer in my ears.
Do I look okay to you? Is this how you workout? I may have even told my daughter who showed up, Go Away! Okay, I did. Sorry, Jess.
But I wasn’t really mad at them as much as I was mad at myself. It’s just that I keep having these dreams. (Yup, told ya I’m a big one for that!) And in my dreams, I’m a runner. So I guess when I wake up, I’m delusional.
I don’t mean a cute little jogger with a size 2 pink & grey workout jumpsuit on. (Although I might be okay with that.) I mean the serious biking shorts marathon mama style. I can jam! And what’s better is that I don’t even get tired. (Idid tell you it was a dream.) I can run and run. And in my dream I think… this is easy. And I am really good at this.
Only I’m not. Case in point – my treadmill trip up today. I apparently can’t even walk well.
What would be really awesome is if I could just work out in my dreams and that would count for real life. I wouldn’t even mind waking up with sore legs if that’s what it took. But alas, I fear that is also just a delusion.
So, for now, I will brush myself off and attempt to get on the torture machine again tomorrow. But apparently, I had better be sure I have a “spotter” on standby because you never know. I can hear it now, the sirens blare and someone yells, “she’s gonna blow!”.
Not sure anyone could catch me but maybe they could tell me stupid stuff like, “don’t worry, it happens to everyone.” NOT!
Or my favorite, “just think now you can write about what a spaz you are on your blog.” So, there you go.