Actually, I'm all too aware that coordination and balance are critical since I have this annoying neurological condition that threatens my stability. A common complaint among people who share this disease is that they walk like they're drunk and it's true. Without my leg braces, I stagger like I've been hitting the vodka when really, my most serious vice is the occasional Midori Margarita at Los Panchos, my favorite Mexican restaurant.
So, yeah, I paid attention to what Chris was saying even if it wasn't "fun." But talk about serendipity.
Not three days later, I was walking my two greyhounds, Hazel and Aiden. Suddenly, Aiden caught a whiff of something that was deliciously stinky and made a sharp left in front of me just as I was stepping forward. I wibble-wobbled. I flailed. And, in that "oh my God I can't believe this is happening" slow motion sensation, I started to fall.
But miraculously, in that split second, I had the presence of mind to remember what Chris said. "Bend your knees. Lower your center of gravity so you're closer to the ground and hit with less impact." That's what I did.
With bent knees, I missed the hard pavement by inches and went splat on landscaping. I waited for that sharp bolt of pain to tell me something was broken, but nothing was bruised other than my ego. Really? I took a deep breath. Looked around. Whew. No witnesses, although I'm pretty sure someone from the adjacent apartment complex was looking out their window and having a good snicker at my expense. Hazel and Aiden just stood there looking confused.
I got up. Dusted myself, grateful that I hadn't landed on the hard pavement or, for that matter, anything else since I'd fallen on a popular canine "relief" station. My clothes would go in the wash, just the same.
And we continued our walk like nothing had ever happened. Two happy hounds and one intact, if not shaken, human.
