The crash

I was half-way through my 4-mile run yesterday, when it happened.

I fell off the elliptical machine.

I was in “that” groove. You know the one, where running stops being horribly painful and starts becoming fun. I wasn’t thinking about anything, I was just rocking out to my iPod, covered in sweat and thinking about what a rock star athlete I’ve become.

It was time to hydrate. I reached for my water bottle, took a sip, and then…

Chaos. My foot slipped off the machine. My legs became tangled in the pedals. I hit my head on my way down and landed in a sad heap, half on the machine, half on the dingy gym floor. My water bottle, the cause of all my problems, exploded all over me, soaking my shirt. And my head. For a moment, everything went dark.

Okay, that’s not how it really happened. In all actuality, I was this close to doing just that, but caught my foot as it slipped off the machine, and steadied myself. Catastrophe averted.

But one more inch, and…

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