"Daddy, daddy!!! Look what I did today!"
"Daddy, daddy!! Jason (aka mean older brother) burnt the hair off one of my barbies and then shot at it execution style with a BB gun!!"
Either of those things could have been said on any given day. But, another common one, was...
"Daddy, daddy!!! Look at this huge gash on my knee, leg, face, (insert body part here)!!!"
And to that, he'd always reply with the same cheesy line... "What were you trying to do??? FLY???"
You see, I've never been graceful. NEVER. If you've ever spent any amount of time with me... you know that I'm prone to falling. And if you're with me and I'm drinking or running... well... then it's only a matter of time before you witness me falling. Apparently, I'm always trying to fly... or as I like to think of it.. my feet can't keep up with the rest of my body (sounds better than just being a clumbsy dumbass).
So far this week on my runs, I'm 2-2 in regards to injuries.
Monday morning: I meet running buddy S- for a nice early morning run. I start out really slow, cause my feet hurt like a bitch (a common problem after long runs for awhile now.. methinks my laces are too tight?), but once we meet up and I get warmed up, I find a gait that suits my feet and causes little discomfort. Great, right? Until a downhill... where I find myself striking my left foot down differently (to accomodate the foot pain better) and feel a muscle in left groin get pulled. At first I think... OH SHIT. That hurt, but it will go away immediately. And when it doesn't and it hurts worse, I think OH SHIT, I've legitimately pulled a muscle and then I realize... SHIT, I should probably stop, cause this hurts really bad and that can't be good. So.... we stopped... and S- showed me how to stretch my groin out (which, I would have never thought of. Sooooo not a stretcher) and I attempted to run, but it hurt. And it hurt to walk. But, I did find that when I ran slowly... very very slowly and tried to keep my gait normal, it didn't hurt too bad. Epic injury avoided (Thank god).
Tuesday morning: Still trying to baby my groin, I make running buddy C- maintain an easy pace. So, we decide to tack on some extra. Along the way.. I fell. HARD. Seriously, I trip, my whole body is in the air for about 1/2 second and then I fall completely on my right knee and hands. I get up and see a dude standing outside of Noshville who witnessed the entire thing. Awesome. C-, tallies up the number of times she's witnessed me falling... we're up to 4 now.
We got back to her car and I had blood streamed down my leg to my shoe. Gross. When I got home, I noticed I had scraped a huge chunk out of my knee and there was still a piece of skin hanging on for dear life. Wanna see? (If not... don't scroll down.... it's gross).
Ewww.... the irony is that C- was JUST commenting on Saturday morning how jacked up my knees are. And I responded... "what do you mean??? they've actually just healed up from the last fall." Jinxxy McJinxerson. Ugh.