Getting up
Falling down is easy, getting back up again is harder.
When my wife and children were attending martial arts lessons at Derrico’s Black Belt School in Medford several years ago, they would spend a lot of time falling. Learning how to fall without hurting yourself and quickly get back up is an important skill to develop in martial arts. With worries over a wired-together hip and arm, I was relegated to watching from the sidelines as they were knocked down and got back up again.
If I have learned nothing else this winter, it is that despite my ball-like physique I don’t bounce as well as I used to. I learned this the hard way after wiping out on ice patches three times in the past two weeks.
The first time was as I was attempting to climb the slope from James Lake at Forest Springs Camp and Conference Center after getting pictures of the Hinderbinder cross country ski race. In warmer times of the year, the path down to the lake is a gentle slope that looked like it was used as a launching point for canoes, kayaks and other small craft. In the winter, after a few hundred pairs of feet and skis came through, it was a packed slope of doom.
If I had thought ahead, I would have worn my snowshoes whose crampons would have helped give me traction. Heck even wearing a decent pair of boots would have made a world of difference. Instead, I had on the basic shoes I wear most days and was gingerly trying to make my way up the slope. I hit a patch and ended up face-planting into the snow, knocking the wind out of me. Fortunately a nice young woman was nearby and helped make sure I was able to get to my feet.
My next time Jack Frost swept me off my feet I was attempting to walk down my driveway to check for mail. I live at the crest of one of Medford’s many hills. When the city widened our road a few years ago, our driveway ended up getting cut back and made even more steep. I thought the sloppy snow at the end of the driveway would be sufficient to give me traction.
I was wrong. The dirty-gray irregular surface of the snow hid a heart of ice that delighted in sweeping me ignominiously right onto my keister. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough to fall over doing as simple a task as fetching the mail, the cold wet slush rapidly soaked my pants. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was recording my lack of grace and poise, I worked over to a less icy spot and scrambled to my feet.
Just as Scrooge was visited by three spirits, my third time ending up in close contact with concrete was last Friday afternoon while walking into the Rib Lake fire hall for an interview. What made this fall the worst was that I was purposely trying to avoid it by choosing to walk up the well-cleared sidewalk rather than the patchy driveway. What I failed to take into account was that there was a patch of slick ice in the gutter along the streets. This time, my left knee and arm took the brunt of the fall. I struggled to my feet and attempted to brush off the dusting of snow as best I could before I hobbled inside for my interview. If the advancing onslaught of gray and white hair in my beard were not enough to remind me that I was no spring chicken, I was reminded of my age Saturday morning when my muscles protested being so ill-used the day before.
I am holding out hope that the old third-times-thecharm routine will keep me from falling again this winter, either that or I am going to need to trade in my winter coat for a set of hockey goalie pads.
Brian Wilson is News Editor at The Star News.
