My history of self-destruction, self inflicted injury, and ungraceful debacles runs deep and wide. I'm a self proclaimed klutz, and the bumps, bruises and scars I have acquired are all evidence to support my case. I've sustained multiple black eyes as a child, several bouts with stitches, broken bones, and even a case of whiplash when I lost an ill-advised "tackling" match. But none have left quite the emotional baggage and unsightly bruising as my unfortunate miscalculation during a track practice while in college.
I was a hurdler back in the day. And as a hurdler, we were pretty accustomed to crashes, bonks and blood. It was a daily challenge to see which hurdler was going to leave practice with the worst battle scars (usually it was me). Such was the case this particular winter day a couple of weeks before our indoor conference track meet. And as you are about to see, my luck is about to get a whole lot worse!
Our last drill was practicing trail-leg technique by using several closely placed consecutive hurdles. Our task was to snap our trail leg over the edge of the hurdle...and so on, and so on. However, the hurdle at its lowest point is still higher than the length of my inseam making this drill a little more challenging for this not-so-graceful hurdler.
We had already accomplished the majority of our practice before this particular drill began. At this point, I had successfully completed a couple of run-throughs, and I'm sure my focus was starting to dwindle. Practice was starting to wrap up (hurdlers were always the LAST to leave...always!), and the college men's basketball team was starting to congregate around the entrances waiting for their designated practice to begin. Unfortunately for me, we were stationed right by the main doors into the facility and were practically the only athletes left on the track.
I'm not sure if fatigue or distraction led to my demise (although I'm not sure it even mattered after the fact), but I'm sure my punishment didn't match my crime! I miscalculated the hurdle and instead of coming down past the hurdle...I came down directly on top of that fiberglass, didn't-budge-an-inch, hurdle. My tenders never saw it coming!
I crumpled onto that cold, hard track holding my delicacies knowing I just ruined any chance at reproduction in my future. As my young, hot, hurdling coach leaned down beside me to assess my injury, I scurried off the floor and jetted into the locker room where I fell into a ball of tears and choked for air. Another hurdler (a female hurdler- thank goodness!) followed me in to check my status. Unfortunatley, the Trainer was not far behind and insisted that I go into the bathroom stahl to check my injury!! She truthfully wanted to assess the damage as well, but I insisted I could handle it on my own (this was obviously pre-mommyhood, because every healthcare provider under the sun gets to see my secrets when I am pushing a baby out of my tunnel! I've lost the will to care!!).
In the days that followed I was restricted from hurdling (thank God) barely able to even walk, let alone run. And my delicacies have never been so black-and-blue as far as the eye could see!