See Jack run…
I fell while running a couple of days ago. I wasn’t paying attention to my footing and never saw the big gap in the sidewalk. I remember the fall very clearly as a series of moments punctuated by cartoon book sounds. Batman sounds. “Whack!” “Punch!” “Crack!” That sort of thing. One moment I was running along on a nice afternoon thinking about the cold beer I would have when I got home, and the next my sneaker caught the edge of a slab of pavement that was buckled up an inch or so. There was a “thwip!” noise as my sneaker locked onto the pavement. Immediately after the “thwip!” came the “uh oh!” moment. Technically the “uh oh!” moment doesn’t qualify as a sound since I didn’t actually say anything out loud. Nor should the “uh oh!” moment be confused with the profanity moment. (That comes a bit later.) The “uh oh!” moment is the moment when the signal gets to your brain that you are in some deep shit. I didn’t fall immediately. Sometimes falls are over that quick. You trip and you are down. Falls on ice usually go that way. There’s the “slip!”, the “uh oh!” and the “boink!” as you fall on your ass. Start to finish, an ice fall takes about a second.
After I tripped, my body took two more steps forward – clown steps, legs jiggling about and finding their way to ground only because gravity dictates that they must hit the ground. If I was on the moon, my legs would still be flailing about like some sort of grotesque funky chicken dance. But down my feet went – first the left, then the right – each making a decidedly flat “whomp!” noise. I was still hopeful that I could pull out of this fall after the first step, but after the second step it was clear I was going down. It was also clear that I was going to fall on my face. Instinctively, I put my hands out in front of me to break the fall. They hit the ground with a “slap!” A remarkably loud “slap!” In retrospect, I was surprised by the slapping sound. I was expecting a “rip!” Or maybe a violent cross between a rip and a scrape: “scriiippp!” Apparently, there was no discernable noise as my skin separated from the palms of my hands; or maybe it was somehow incorporated into the “slap!” noise. I guess I’ll never know. After my hands slapped the pavement there was a rather unpleasant “umphh!” moment – the moment when the rest of my body hit the pavement, knocking the air out of my lungs. After that, my body was still. The fall was complete.
As for the aforementioned profanity moment, it was a big disappointment. I mean, a fall like that, you expect, no, you deserve, a resounding “Fuuuuccckkkkk!” that echoes across the neighborhood and sends children running indoors. But with the wind knocked out of me, my face hugging the cold pavement and my hands on fire with pain, the most I could muster was “fe!” That was it. An impotent and completely unsatisfying “fe!”
I picked myself up, and checked out my hands. They were covered in blood. An older man in a car pulled up alongside of me and asked if I was all right. I had no desire (and probably no ability) to talk to anyone right then. I just smiled and waved him off with my bloody hands. He drove off slowly, watching me in his rearview mirror. I waved at him again reassuringly. Blood dripped down on the sidewalk. I was about seven blocks from home. It was a very long walk.
5:20:30 PM  Stories
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