I’m somewhat of a klutz. An accident waiting to happen, it’s been said.
It all started when I was two years old. Trying to grab a container of sprinkles my mom hid from me, I reached a little too far over a stairwell banister and flipped myself over the railing, landing on a hard, unfinished basement floor. It’s been a lifetime of bruises, scrapes, blood and Band-Aids since.
I’m the type of person who falls over my own two feet. I trip up stairs, I trip down stairs. I’ve face-planted while running more times than I can count. I once crashed my bike after getting tangled in someone’s dog leash and landed in poison ivy. I think you get the idea. I’m just not very coordinated. Most of the time, I feel as though my brain and limbs aren’t even connected, as if my arms and legs have a mind – and a stubborn one at that – of their own.
Due to this, I have a tendency to be overly cautious when it comes to any sort of fitness- related exercise that involves coordination. I quickly realized that most team sports, such as baseball, dodgeball, kickball, etc. just aren’t for me. I’ve given up on trying to jump rope, I just get tangled in it. However, one movement that I managed to put my fears aside and conquer – or so I thought – was the box jump.
It took a lot of practice for me to able to get this movement down. I had such a fear of falling that I would mentally freak myself out and ultimately fail. But, after weeks of trying and trying, I finally managed to get the movement down pretty easily. What once scared me, I now embraced. This was fun!
However, something went wrong when I was practicing them on Monday. I don’t know if I was sloppy, or careless or what happened really. All I know is that I was seven box jumps in when my shin made contact with the sharp corner of the box. I’ve heard people say they “saw stars” in moments of pain, but it never had happened to me before. Until now. Trust me, I saw stars. I gritted my teeth so I didn’t make too much of a scene. I looked down to survey the damage and oh my god, THERE IS SO MUCH BLOOD. OHHHH I THINK I SEE MY BONE. Yes, this was deep. Blood was gushing from the wound. After applying pressure (and leaving quite the bloody trail), and cleaning the wound, I realized I probably needed stitches.
Luckily, my boyfriend was with me and he took me, whimpering about stitches and needles and pain, to the nearest ER. Two hours, eight stitches and one tetanus shot later, I was free to go. After the Novocaine set in, I couldn’t feel anything, but I also couldn’t bear to watch my skin being sewn together. Honestly, I think my biggest disappointment was that I didn’t get to finish my workout.
The doctor cleared me to do any sort of physical activity, just warning me to clean the wound and look for signs of infection. “And maybe avoid trying to jump over boxes or whatever it is that you were doing. Don’t want to see you back here too soon.”
Ah. Duly noted.
Have you ever had a fitness-related injury?