Falling down
Falling down
By Bill Buley
Staff Writer
We all fall down.
I don’t mean coming into tough times. I don’t mean making mistakes. And I don’t mean feeling sad.
I mean, literally, falling and hitting the ground. Boom.
I did just that the other day while I was running on Tubbs Hill. I glanced ahead on an uphill stretch around a turn, saw a walker, got distracted, and fell. I caught most of it with my hands and was up quickly, more embarrassed than injured and quickly offered a too cheery “Good morning” to the walker as if to say, “I meant to do that.”
But it made me think — and remember — some of my more epic tumbles. There have been several that left me scrapped, bruised, banged and beaten and even with a broken leg.
I share them here for your amusement.
Morning marathon
I’m less than a mile into a marathon on Kauai. It’s dark, as the race started at 4 a.m. The sky is full of stars and I decide to stare at them. I look up. Beautiful. Wow …. Boom. Down I go, flat out, on my knees and elbows. Bloodied in battle. Running one second, down on the ground the next. And it hurt. Two runners stopped to help me up, which again, was embarrassing. I brushed myself off and kept running. Volunteers shortly cleaned me up and patched my wounds. I learned a valuable lessons: Don’t get star struck while running.
Snow chase
When we lived in Sagle some 25 years ago, our home was at the end of a long and wide circular driveway on Spades Road. And within that circular driveway were trees and brush. Come winter, when it snowed, I would play hide and seek with our kids. It was a magical time, trying to squirrel under some bushes or behind a log, burying myself in snow so as not to be found. Once, though, it was my turn to find. One of my kids was running on the driveway and I was in full flight behind them, carrying a flashlight. My foot caught a rock and I went sailing through the air, like something you might see in a movie, and landed pretty much on my face, completely sprawled out, and slid along the frozen, snow-covered ground. I was fine and best of all, I laughed and those who saw it laughed with me.
Icy trip
I’m out for an afternoon winter run and navigating my way through some treacherous terrain, ie, ice. Creeping along slowly, I thought I was safe. Not. On my next step, my foot slipped and I flipped, crashing awkwardly on my leg. Ouch. I couldn’t stand on it. Our old yellow Labrador, Sandy, was with me. I told her to go home and get help, but she looked on with concern, as if to say, “I’m not leaving you.” So I hobbled home, a mile, and gimped around for a few days before finally going to a doctor. He diagnosed a spiral fracture of the fibula, which means, in more layman terms, a broken leg. It was in a cast for a few months. But what I’ll never forget is how Sandy stayed by my side through it. She was a loyal friend to the end.
Curb appeal
Walking near Tubbs Hill, on a sidewalk, near the curb. Yes, just walking. With a colleague returning from an assignment. I’m not sure to this day how I did it, but I managed to lose my footing, slip down the curb and just kind of collapse in a heap and on to my side. I rolled over and stood up. That was really embarrassing. My colleague had a good laugh said he would have to start getting a walker for me.
Crash landing
Few can say they smashed their head through a glass door and stood up unscathed. I can.
I must have been about 10 years old or so and as I recall, I was racing my sister toward a school, where a brother had a basketball game. Just as we neared the glass door, I tripped and plunged headfirst into it. Glass shattered and fell all around. People came charging over as I lay there, stunned. Call an ambulance. Call a doctor. About then, I stood up. I was fine. No worries. It was at that moment I learned to be thankful that I had a very, very hard head and apparently a legion of angels watching over me. My parents, I believe, were glad I was OK, but also a bit embarrassed and wondered if they would have to pay the bill to repair the door.
I don’t think they did, but I never asked.
I’m sure I will fall again. Probably sooner than I would like.
I can only hope no one is there to see it — unless I need help getting up.
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Bill Buley is assistant managing editor of
The Coeur d’Alene Press. He can be reached at (208) 416-5110.