And the curse continues.
This afternoon, between Musici Amici rehearsals, I slipped off to Razor Sharp Fitness Center. . . my first time there since Monday night, which gives you some sense of what a nutty week it has been.
I make my way to the treadmill platform and bump into someone I know from the University of Wisconsin-Parkside who wanted to compliment me on my morning show and my recent Lincoln series. That was nice- because most of the time I am completely anonymous at Razor Sharp. . . which is just fine by me. But every so often I am recognized there and that’s fun.
Anyway, I finished up with her, spotted the only treadmill open – slipped off my fleece and tied it to the side railing – climbed on the treadmill . . . and RRRRRRRRRRRRRR. . . the thing was already going – and really fast, too! (almost 8 miles an hour!) But because it’s one of the brand new treadmills, it runs almost silently – and it never even dawned on me to look down and make sure that the thing wasn’t running. So anyway, I stepped on to the treadmill and was instantly thrown up and back and off of it with amazing force – so that in a split second, I was in a crumpled heap on the floor behind it.
It had to be a mighty scary sight to those around me, and it felt like I had a dozen concerned neighbors clustered around me almost before I had figured out what happened. I think most of them just wanted to make sure that I hadn’t been injured.
Me, too.
As it turns out, the only tangible done to me was that I took a pretty good knock to the wrist which actually broke the skin and drew blood. . . which is probably not all that rare an occurrence for a lot of the more driven Razor Sharpers who lift weights and otherwise push themselves pretty dramatically. But for people like me who do nothing more adventurous than read a book on the treadmill, this was a whole lot more excitement than I was expecting or desiring.
Anyway, the worst blow was to my pride – otherwise, I just general aches and pains and felt good enough to climb back aboard. . . once I had shut it off, of course . . . although I ended up only doing thirty rather than sixty minutes. I just felt like my body and psyche had taken enough of a beating this weekend and it was time to slip home, play with the dogs, take a picture of my still-bleeding wrist, do one more Musici Amici rehearsal, and then climb into the tub for the second time this weekend (unheard of!) as a reward for surviving yet another Zonk.