Walking. It's hard for some people.

A long time ago I came to terms with the fact that I will never be an award winning athlete. Or dancer (in the official sense, anyway). Or walker. Let's just call a spade a spade: I won't be winning any awards when it comes to movement of any kind. I'm just not coordinated. Not even a little bit. Growing up, my legs were constantly covered in bruises, and I would often wonder if I was being abused, and just didn't realize it. Turns out, I was abusing myself. By walking. Into things. And tripping over them.

Some things you don't outgrow, and my lack of coordination is one of them. In fact, certain characteristics become more defined as you get older, and I've got my coordination issues down to an art. I'm almost so uncoordinated that it's graceful. If you can believe that.

Why, just last month I was cleaning out the bathroom and I left open the under sink cabinet door, turned my back for one minute to put something away, and when I turned back around, went to walk out of the bathroom and SMACK. Walked right into the open door.

It hurt like a bitch. The faint marking of the bruise is still visible on my right thigh. A month later. Oh also? I had to straighten the stack of towels in the cupboard before I took the picture. And hi Aggie! She like to know my whereabouts at all times. She is a mommy's dog.

Last Friday at school, I went to pick up a student from her classroom and take her to my room to work on some goals with her. That pretty much sums up my entire day at school and what I do. Go from student to student and work with them on whatever areas they are lagging behind. Mostly this is done with bilingual students. Si, yo hablo.

So I'm going to get this girl, whose classroom is upstairs, and I'm carrying with me a bucket full of learning supplies and things (games, crayons, stickers, worksheets, flashcards, you get the

picture). I'm walking up the stairs, almost to the top, and somehow, I have no idea how or why, but somehow I manage to trip. On my feet? My pants? The stairs? Air? All plausible answers. Anyway I don't know, but I tripped and I fell. HARD. Going UP the stairs, mind you.

I mean, I bit the dust something awful. I'm pretty sure a sound emitted from my mouth that

went like this "Uuuuumphhhhohcrapaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhllllllllerrrrrrrrrrrg". And then a whimper. And then I looked up, looked around to see if anyone had seen me take the digger. Thankfully, no one was around. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the steps to take a moment and feel sorry for myself. I felt pain searing through my knee. I honestly don't think I could have gotten up and walked at that moment.

Just then, the teacher whose room is at the top of the stairs, and therefor nearest to where I had just fallen, stuck her head out of her door and said, "Oh my gosh, we all just heard you fall, are you OK?"

Busted. Now, I know she was well meaning and concerned. But what I wanted to tell her was "If you heard me fall all the way in your classroom, NO I AM NOT OK." And also, "I was perhaps

OK until about 10 seconds ago when you asked me if I was OK, and now I am embarrassed as hell because I can't walk and oh great, here comes your class in the hall to see what the ruckus was. Hey kids!"

Instead I think I mustered up a weak smile and uttered something about being clumsy, and yes I'm fine. She went back in her room and I stayed there on the stairs for another minute or so, looking in my bucket to see if the last of my dignity had perhaps fallen in there under a glue stick. No such luck. I hobbled my way to collect my student, and then stumbled my way to the nurse's office to get an ice pack and throw back half a bottle of Motrin. My knee swelled up to the size of a softball, and it hurt to walk for the rest of the morning.

Here we are, 4 days later, and the bruises have come to full color, much like the autumn leaves. So I thought I'd share some pictures of the damage. It's not easy to try and take pictures of your own leg, so these aren't the best quality, and Lord knows I'm no Ansel Adams in the best of circumstances. So cut me some slack.

The majority of the damage is there, on the bottom of the left knee cap. The fall broke the skin, but it didn't bleed, so it's mostly just a big bad bruise. I think when I fell, somehow, my thighs broke my fall. Thank goodness they are nice and meaty. Both of my thighs have large bruises in relatively the same spot, so I think they took a hit on the step above, after the knee got the initial blow.

It's harder to make out the bruise in this picture, but I think you can see, it's large. I was reading in bed the other night and The Cowboy said something to me and gave me a nice hearty pat on the leg. I almost punched him in the nuts, it hurt so bad.

I'll keep practicing my walking, and maybe one day I will get it right. Probably not, but a girl can wish. I should probably wear some kind of protective gear, and this is exactly why I don't ride my bike or use my roller blades, both items I insisted I needed, that now take up space and collect dust in the garage. It's not just recreation with me - it's life or death.