January 22, 2007
I am tottering across the ice, praying to my higher power not to let me fall on my can.
Briefcase in one hand and purse in the other, I am strategically balanced, evenly weighted on both sides.
At an average pace of 15 steps per linear yard, I am inching across the parking lot at the glacial speed of 20 feet per hour.
Patience is the key, I tell myself. Patience will get me there in one piece.
My gait can best be described as “penguin waddle meets the little old man shuffle,” as mastered by Tim Conway on the old “Carol Burnett Show” — hilarious shtick that used to make my family howl.
But I’m not laughing. I’m too focused on the task at hand.
With my eyes fixed on the ground, scanning the ice for any bumps, nicks or holes that could cause my ankle to twist out from under me, I am not conscious of my surroundings. A car could careen around the corner and knock me into the trees and I wouldn’t see it coming.
I have no peripheral vision.
It's all about the ice.
Scoot-scoot … scoot-scoot … scoot-scoot ... My feet scuff over the frozen asphalt like a toddler learning to skate.
“I’m not going to fall … I’m not going to fall ...” I repeat the mantra out loud.
I know I look like ridiculous. I know those people over on the cleared sidewalk are laughing at me. I don’t care.
I am determined to stay on my feet. I don’t have time to go to the emergency room today. I’ve got deadlines. I’ve got lunch plans. I’ve got to corner the market on citrus before prices skyrocket after the California freeze.
Scoot-scoot … scoot-scoot …
Ten yards to go, and I’ll be home-free on bare pavement.
Feeling more confident, I pick up the pace. This isn’t so bad, I think to myself. I lengthen my stride, solidly planting my feet, heel-toe-heel-toe, as I increase speed.
I’m truckin’ now, baby! I see the light at the end of the crosswalk.
Just then, someone calls to me from across the street: “Careful there, Ms. Hamilton!”
I look up and smile, catching a glimpse of a co-worker several yards away.
“Piece of cake!” I cry, and raise my briefcase in the air to give him a wave.
A major miscalculation.
My delicate balance shattered, I feel myself start to go down. But wait! An involuntary reflex jolts my body counter to the direction I’m falling, and I spring back up again.
I’m still standing!
But wait! The jolt upward has thrown off my equilibrium again. I’m teetering toward the ground in front of me.
Panic-stricken, I force my right leg into a forward lunge to stabilize myself. My foot hits the ice and slides out 2 feet farther than my hip sockets should allow. I come to a stop, just inches off the ground in an excruciating attempt at the Chinese splits. In a matter of seconds, I’m going to topple face-first onto the frozen parking lot.
But I refuse to drop.
With Herculean effort (and thigh muscles I never knew I had), I draw my legs closed and pop up like Mary Lou Retton after a vault.
“She sticks the landing! It’s a perfect 10! And the crowd goes wild! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!...”
Feeling victorious and enormously relieved, I collect myself and shuffle to the sidewalk where there is no ice in sight.
I hustle across the street at the light, at almost a full gallop.
Invincible now (or so I think), I take a giant leap over a pile of snow that has collected in the gutter. In mid-jump, I realize something is terribly wrong.
My back catches, and my legs begin to twitch. Every muscle I have contracts. I land with a thud. I’m on my feet, but my entire body is in spasm.
Then I remember reading somewhere that a person can do more damage trying to STOP a fall than by actually hitting the dirt.
NOW they tell me!
I put one foot in front of the other, but it is no good. Every tendon in my back and thighs is screaming. I revert to tottering mode. The Tim Conway shuffle. The march of the penguins.
I see the door to my building several yards ahead, and I know I’ll make it, eventually.
All it takes is patience.
Patience is the key.
Comments
KareAnderson (anonymous) says...
Patience, yes, and focus and taking it one step at a time - which, incidentally, let's us feel every precious minute more... all useful behaviors as we grow into our prime, Boomer Girls eh?
- Kare. SavvyHer.com
January 23, 2007 at 10:57 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
rvonknorring (rvonknorring) says...
Your story reminded me of a coworker who once slipped and fell (hard) on the ice layered sidewalk outside our building. Everytime after that, if there was a slim chance of it being slick, she walked on a large towel. She'd shuffle her feet on one end of the towel, while holding the other end tight at her waist. My dad bought my mom, and several other Kansas friends, a pair of ice cleets! They do the trick too! :-)
January 26, 2007 at 2:48 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
cathy (cathy) says...
Ronna, the visual of that woman shuffling on the towel is hilarious! I'm already hip to the cleats. A gentle reader emailed and told me to buy "Yak Trax"...apparently, I was the last to know.
January 26, 2007 at 5:03 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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