The Art of Falling Down

I wrote this for FB yesterday...

"Okay, so I was working in the yard today. I started out weeding, which led to redoing the gravel path beside the iris bed. I had to take out all the large flat stones, smooth all the rock chips, and then replace all the large stones again. As I was placing a heavy stone, I got my center of gravity out of whack, on a hill. Yep, down I went. Tripped a little, staggered a bit, and landed flat on my chest in the grass. Hubs said I was lucky I didn't hit my head on the rock wall border. I say it was skill. Lord knows I fall enough to know how to do it with finesse. I didn't break anything. Many bruises are now beginning to show, though.

I did finish the gravel path and the weeding before I came in to take some Aleve. So that's done. We'll see if I put in the iris bed extension tomorrow."

If you know me, you know I fall about once a year.  Slip on the ice, slip off the stairs, trip over my own feet, and, this time, lose my balance and fall downhill.  I do it so much that I've learned how to do it so I rarely hurt more than my pride.  Bruises fade, scrapes heal, and I'm back to myself.

It was a close thing yesterday.  If I had allowed gravity to take its course, I would've faceplanted into the wall of concrete landscaping blocks or into the rock-chip path with the large stones I'd already placed.  Instead, I turned and twisted and let gravity take my top-heavy body down the hill a little ways so I landed in the grass.  It wasn't entirely a conscious act.  All I knew was I had to do whatever I could to NOT land on an unforgiving surface.

I put my arms out to catch myself at first.  Bad idea.  That's how wrists get snapped.  So, when I felt the first twinges in my wrist, I stopped that and let myself hit the ground.  On my chest.  Soft tissue holds up better than bone.  And I have a lot of soft tissue protecting my ribcage. 

This morning, my wrist still hurts, but it isn't broken.  I caught a rock with my ankle, so there's a bruise there, and I caught a rock with my knee, so it's also bruised.  Scraped up my arms a little, probably on twigs in the grass.  My breasticles are bruised.  Not fun, but not fatal.  Nothing is broken and I didn't hit my head or jostle my brain too much.  Win-win.

Falling is sometimes unavoidable.  What happened yesterday was that I got my center of gravity displaced when I hefted a heavy rock into place and once I let go of the rock, the heaviest part of me was pointed downhill.  Gravity took over.  I know better for next time - heft the rocks with my body pointed uphill.  Work with gravity instead of against it. 

After I got up and Hubs was sure I wasn't broken, I finished the rock project. If I can find a way to wear a bra without too much trouble, I'll be back out in the gardens again today.  I have iris bulbs to plant and a new bed to create for them.  On the downhill slope, but no rocks involved.  I'll go out and make my bed, and let the irises lie in it.  Because the main idea in the art of falling down is being able to get back up and try again.

And, of course, trying to avoid falling down next time.