Distance x Feet Smacking Pavement = Wear + Tear - Toenail.
Nothing much you can do but cringe and move on.
Unless, of course, you are a Solver. The Solver can neither accept nor move on. The Solver must solve.
Do you think your running shoes are too small? wonders The Solver.
Well heck, Solver, it’s funny. I’ve been running for about 25 years now, and I have never (not once!) thought to ask myself: Do these shoes fit my feet? THANK YOU. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LIFE ALTERING INSIGHT.
Now. I know you'll find this very difficult to believe, but I'm going to ask you to dig deep here and stretch those imaginations of yours to fathom what I'm about to tell you:
I fell again last week.
DO I HAVE A DISEASE?
I don't know.
It was the same exact fall I always do, my signatureTM you might call it, except this time there was nothing whatsoever to trip me.
Just SPLAT (@#@%&^!). And the bloody knee, and the bloody elbow, and the shoulder that isn't nestled quite right in its socket, and the jog of shame home, and the difficulty with stairs.
One week later, I'm mostly healed. (My knees are permanently scarred at this point, I'm pretty sure). But I can't bring myself to run. I'm afraid to run, because I'm afraid I'll fall. Twenty-five years of running and now? I have this weird (crazy) (but hunchy!) feeling that the next fall will be of the "I can't get up" variety. That next time will be the time that granny don't come home.
It's nuts. I know that.
There's just something so violent about the way I fall. I wish I could accurately describe how hard I've been hitting the ground. This last time I actually paused for a second to see if I was dead.
I just don't think I can fall like that again and still have nice things. Like a spleen. And brain activity.
So I'm looking for a Solver.
Have you ever experienced a weird hunch that the universe is trying towarn you? That a fall is more than just a fall?