I realized there are two types of people. Type 1: You remember your most embarrassing moments in great detail, and shudder at the recollection of it. Type 2: You can’t seem to think of an embarrassing moment, but when asked, mention a slightly awkward occurrence that is actually quite normal for anyone who interacts with other people during their day, but you still decided to just say “something” in effort of being polite to the question asker, but in all honesty, don’t often get embarrassed. I am indeed, type 1.
I have a few “most embarrassing moments” that leave me tightly closing my eyes, in hopes that the pressure will push the memory so far down, it will seep out of an ear canal or nasal passage, and if all goes as planned, block the memory from others minds as well (as if I had some magical wizard who wipes away embarrassing memories from all those who have seen them). I have a strong inkling, that fantasy won’t work out as I hope. I tend to be a bit clumsy and have come to accept it, embrace it and try to use it as a humorous way to break the ice. But then there are times, oh boy, are there times, you just find yourself in a toilet bowl of putrid wrongs and realize there’s no way to recover. You may as well just close the lid and go along for the ride.
I was a youthful lass’, just moved out on my own. I had bought my first home and was enjoying being the “ruler” of my own household. I even decided to get carefree and sleep with my contacts in. I mean, when you stay up late, its normal to just leave them in, right? A night turned into a week, and aside from taking them out to add some saline solution for moisture every few days, I’d just leave those bad boys in 24-7. I did this for …well, for a bit. Please take your contacts out every night, kids. Please. Finally, I hit a point where I’m watching the tele and everything is blurry. Hm. I take my contacts out and put my glasses on. Same thing. Still blurry. I had to walk up to the television in order to scroll through the guide and read what options were available. I felt pretty nervous at this point.
At work (desk job) I’m typing away, and not able to read the words unless I lean inches away from my monitor. Eek. What the heck? Am I going blind!? I’m only 21! God no, I need my eyes! I go to the eye Doctor and apparently have a severe eye infection and scarred corneas. I was given two different prescriptions to drop into my eyes, every two hours. No eye contacts allowed! Not until I finish my prescription anyway. Hopefully the cornea damage would fully heal and repair itself, but the Doctor wasn’t sure yet.
During this phase of life, running was my primary focus and I’d run 6-7 miles at least 4 times a week. The sun had set early this particular day (due to daylight savings) and I wanted to be smart and safe about my long run, so I went to the gym. My running rule was always “once you start running, you can’t stop”. I never, ever let myself quit until I had met my mileage goal. I hopped onto the treadmill and started running. I was obviously wearing my glasses and it was creating this double vision illusion that was giving me vertigo and I quickly discovered that I needed to take off my glasses. Without stopping, I took them off and put them in the drink holder of the treadmill. They were rattling against the equipment with every stride I took. I didn’t want them to get damaged with the repetitive impact, so I decided to break my “rule” and get off the treadmill to get some paper towels to create a barrier to cushion my glasses. I hopped off, unable to really see anything, made my way to the paper towel dispenser, walked back to my treadmill, hopped on, and was violently propelled off, with my head hitting the south edge of the treadmill. I broke my rule. My routine. And now, I was paying for it. I hadn’t even noticed the treadmill was still going at a sprightly 7.5 mph when I stepped back onto it. I was basically blind, after all.
Laying on the ground like an injured deer, I feel eyes starring down upon me. I’m dazed, confused and mortified! I see the row of ellipticals that I landed in front of, each one occupied and each one presenting a set of eyes inspecting me. A man hopped off a nearby machine and knelt beside me. His look of concern was alarming, but all I could manage to do was laugh hysterically. Laughing is the best substitution for crying right? He asked, “Are you okay?!!” I was still laughing awkwardly as I sat up and felt this pang of intense agony quake alive within my chin. “You’re bleeding really bad”, he pleaded. In between blushing, adrenaline and hysterical giggles, I replied, “I am?” I quickly reach up and touched my chin, suddenly feeling warm, thick moisture…and PAIN. The redness of my cheeks was only intensifying.
This man helped me up, stopped the treadmill and I grabbed my glasses from the drink holder of the treadmill, quickly vanishing into the bathroom to investigate the damage. I was the receiver of many panicked expressions and gasps of shock on my journey to the bathroom. I hesitantly walked up to the mirror, now, more nervous than before. The pain was really setting in and causing tears to emerge. Right before I turned towards the mirror, a random girl sees my bloody injury and covers her mouth, saying, “Are you okay? You have a hole in your chin!” Uhhh… a hole? I’m sorry? “I DO?!”, I blurt out and walk in front of the mirror. A gym staff member comes up behind me, asking if I’m okay. I only blink and cover my chin, terrified of the bone that was glimmering through the red, oozing blood. I nod. She says, “You really should go to the hospital.” I shake my head and realize the pain is intensifying with any movement and my head feels like it’s full of water, rocking side to side. I was terrified to walk back out in the busy evening crowd of people who just saw me fly like a cannon ball, hit my chin against the edge of the treadmill and slam onto my stomach like a dominated lion cub.
I ended up going to a walk-in emergency clinic and I had to get 9 stitches on my chin and later discovered I have damage to my neck, due to that lovely slam my chin made onto the raised treadmill. I had a slinking fear of the treadmill after that and forced myself to go back into the gym the next day. In I go with a full piece of gauze taped around my face to keep the wound and stitches intact, not that I needed that to draw any attention.
A few people came up to me saying they saw me fall and heard it from the other side of the gym. Ah yes, wonderful. I’m pleased. Thank you for sharing. I carefully walked up to a different treadmill, making sure it was off…at least twice. It’s off. This things off, right? I stepped onto it, pressed the green button and slowly increased the pace. I wanted to run just a mile or less. I needed to face this fear and nip it in the bud. I felt the wound crying out with each stride I took, so I realized even if I faced this fear, my stitches may not be as happy about it. I barely finished my mile, noticing some new blood on the bandage. I walked out of the gym with the same volume of humiliation, but feeling proud that I least faced my treadmill fear, and knowing I could do it again.
Years later, some people still feel the need to come up to me and comment about the memory of me, flying off the treadmill. And to this day, if I’m at the gym and see an empty treadmill that is on and moving, I run over, turn it off and say, “You’re welcome” quietly. No need for anyone else to be known as the girl who fell off the treadmill. I can’t live that one down! Lessons for today: take out your contacts daily, face your fears, allow humiliation to push you into embracing your weirdness and always, always, turn off the treadmill. Ps. That’s not even my worst one!
