On the DL

Oh, that in this particular case, "On the DL" referred to the "down-low," signifying that I had something delightfully juicy to share. Sadly, in this particular case, it refers to the Disabled List (despite my protests, I do actually know a fair amount of sports terminology), on which I am currently placing myself.

Why, you may ask, am I on the disabled list, giving my now injured left hand a break from as much typing as possible? Perhaps it is because yesterday, I FUCKING FELL OFF A TREADMILL.

How, you may ask, did such a thing occur? Well, I shall tell you.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that someone from my gym class said, "Gigi, you've got some very long shoelaces," to which I replied, "Oh, I know. I double knot them though, so it's okay." I should confess now, that I'm a tad OCDish and one of the ways in which it manifests itself is that my sneakers never feel like they're tied tightly enough. As a result, I have a tendency to, over time, stretch my shoelaces to thin spaghetti-like lengths. The bows flop around on either side of my shoe like those crazy rabbits' long ears flouncing about on the sides of their heads. But it's been that way for years and never, never has double knotting my laces not been enough to keep the truly mortifying and horribly painful from occurring.

Until yesterday.

There I was, happily going about the first few moments of my Sunday work out, which includes a treadmill run. I was just warming up and mouthing the words to, um, Britney's Oops I Did it Again, when, I felt something happen to my feet. At the time I had no idea what started it all, but what happened next felt like hours of my body losing all control. In sequential order, I believe it went something like this:
- I take hold of my iPod because my Britney selection was about to end and I want to change artistes. I look down at my iPod and begin circling through the menu options.
- I trip
- I try to regain footing, but can't because, I'm on a treadmill. And it's moving.
- I think to myself that I might be able to get my feet off the damn belt and on to the sides of said treadmill, but I can't because I'm on a treadmill. And it's still moving (and it just occurred to me right now that I was holding my iPod and couldn't grab hold of the bars--not that I couldn't have dropped my iPod for my own safety, but who thinks of such things in the span of four seconds?)
- My feet completely disengage from the treadmill and I am air born until my knees and then stomach and chest slam down on the belt. And we all know what's coming next.
- Oh yes, like a backwards Superman flying through an episode of Beavis and Butthead, I am flung off the hideous machine and land on the cement floor, stomach and knees skidding towards the wall behind me, bouncing a few times before I stop moving. Ouch. (And I will point out at this time how lucky I was not to be one treadmill over to the right which would have flung me into a rather sturdy collection of stationary bicycles.)
- The adrenalin and shock kicks in and I gather my iPod to me, swing my legs around and sit up, which is when I notice about twelve eyes, wide as wide can be, looking at me in horror and amazement. Wanting to come off as supremely cool, I immediately shout out, "I'M OKAY! I'M OKAY!" This is when I notice my insanely long shoelace and deduce that it is indeed the culprit. I point this out to everyone because, of course, I have to be sure they know that I would never trip and fall without just cause, having nothing to do with any lack of grace, poise, and athletic ability!
-And then, to keep up the cool factor, I ask, "Was that wacky or what?!" Everyone nods, expresses great concern and one guy shouts out, "Man, I saw it happening but there was nothing I could do!" I agree with him and thank everyone for their concern. After which I proclaim, "I guess I'll do the elliptical trainer today."
- And I'm not kidding. I walk myself, rather uncomfortably and pathetically, to the ladies room, blot the four welts I have on my knees (two matching welts per knee) and get right back to exercising. People walk by me and declare, "Good for you for getting right in there!" and "I woulda gone home! More power to ya!" Yes, crazy, manic, and now clearly in shock me spends a wicked 35 minutes on the elliptical, pushing myself harder on that stupid thing than I perhaps ever have. I cringe now and then, but damn it, I was getting my work out in as Madonna was demanding, "Don't tell me to stop!" Damn straight don't tell me to stop! Don't tell me I can't keep working out after getting thrown off a treadmill!
- I even go do weights afterwards which is when it all starts to unravel. It's a bit blurry after that, but I remember losing much momentum, skipping body parts here and there, and when I notice I can no longer bend my knees and that some yellow substance is oozing out of them, I decide to call it quits.

Today, my knees are still oozing, I still can't bend them, I have many aches and pains and bruises, mostly on the left side of my body which clearly took the brunt of the crash landing, and my left hand hurts when I grab, squeeze, pull, or push anything. So at this point, I feel like every part of me needs a good rest for the next few days.

So, I am officially on the DL until further notice.

Thank god, Run's House is on tonight. I could use some comfort and wisdom!