I suppose I'm getting to the stage where I can honestly say "Sometimes, I fall over." Yesterday was my most spectacular by far. Oh yes, I've fallen longer and higher and further before, but not quite as hard as I did yesterday or on such an unforgiving surface.
That moment when you realise you have stopped running and have started tripping holds a second split into first and second: first you think YAY i've controlled this trip and i may look dorky staggering about but at least I'm still upright. Second, you realise you haven't and promtly and with great speed begin falling. Hands out between you and the thing you are falling on is about all you have time for, if you're lucky. If you're not, your face breaks your fall. In my case - my tooth broke mine. Hello road, I am face, this is my tooth.. nice to meet you.
I was shaken. I got up gathered my bag and my glasses and checked myself for damage. And then I felt it, with the tip of my tongue, the unfamiliar sharpness of my tooth, or - what was left of it. The lower half had gone, snapped off in an arc. My right front tooth. Turning to go back to my car, I hoped Greg was home. By the time I was half way to his house I was crying and shaking so hard it's amazing I could still drive. He wasn't home I called him at work crying and upset. He made an appointment at the dentist and called me back with the time. By lunchtime my tooth was fixed good-as-new but I was still really shakey.
Today my new tooth and I are a lot better. My neck and thighs and back are stiff and I can feel and see bruises colouring in my skin and can feel them on my face. I made sure I had plenty of time to catch the Ferry this morning and I picked my stupid feet up one after the other. A simple concept I shall be keeping in the front of my brain for a while longer, I hope.