I always thought that I had good balance. After all, I have played sports basically my entire life, ever since I was three years old and could actually throw a ball through a hoop. I ran state track, was on the varsity basketball team my freshman year in high school, played competitive soccer so well that my team went to Hawaii for winning the championship at 13 years old, and we placed second in our state softball tourney. Sure, I fell a few times, got shoved over in basketball games, tackled in soccer, but it was all part of the game. My feet were always stable, unless they were swept out from beneath me. Then I went to Ukraine and everything changed.
Funny thing about Ukraine; it's a total ice block in the winter. Everywhere you look, there is at least 6 inches of ice coating the ground. But I figured that I, being the awesome athletically enabled person that I am, would be perfectly fine walking-no, running-on the ice. I had places to go after all, and I was running late thanks to this cursed trolley.
I took off sprinting the moment my feet touched the ground. It was a ten minute walk to my destination, but I was sure I could cut the time in half. But after running a measly minute, I saw a problem. An old grandma was walking on my path, and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to stop in time for her. She wasn't looking up, and I had no way to warn her I was coming. I tried to slow myself, keep from sliding all over the place a knocking over the poor old woman.
Five feet before I collided with the old lady, I managed to get to a walking pace and ever so slowly, I crept by her. And then it happened.
Just like the numerous times my feet had been ripped out from under me during my soccer games, once again my feet flew above my head and I fell flat on my back, but not without taking the old babushka with me, knocking her over like a bowling pin.
I felt my eyes bug out of my head as I scrambled to stand, shocked at what had just taken place.
"Izvinitye!" I cried, begging her forgiveness for my clumsiness. It was one of the only words in Russian I could recall offhand without taking a minute or two to conjugate a complete sentence.
The lady just nodded her head at me muttering, "Khorosho," over and over again. Good, good, it's ok. I dropped my hands down to help her up, and she reached at me gratefully. After giving me a small smile in forgiveness, she walked off in her own direction, leaving me to go on mine.
The palm of my hand flew to my forehead. I'm such an idiot. I thought, walking away.
So much for "athletically enabled..."
No comments:
Post a Comment