You did What?


Okay, I admit, was a little stuck on today’s entry, so I goggled blog prompts and found this, Imagination Prompt Generator It asks questions to get your juices flowing, I think I went through 10 before I came upon “What have you done before that you will never do again?” This caught my unwavering attention for two reasons, 1) A woman and I were discussing this topic just the other day, and 2) If I have an excuse to make myself look silly, I’m going to take it dammit.

Please enter my time machine.
Ten years ago, I found myself single and looking for love in all the wrong places, or at least the wrong web sites. Also included in my search for the perfect mate I tried to get back into shape. Driving on the road for nine years, stopping at all the fast food places I could (they should be called FAT food) and being married with kids for 22 years had a measurable effect on my waist line.

During my search, I began talking to a woman that had rollerblades and actually used them, three times a week. A light went off in my head and I immediately wanted to try this.
Part of our gym class when I was in high school was roller skating and the only difference was the position of the wheels.

The next day, I stopped at a used sport store and bought a pair of inline skates, the salesman was kind enough to throw in a helmet, elbow and knee pads. He wanted to sell me a DVD on how to rollerblade, I declined because I watched this stuff when they had it on TV years ago.

That weekend, I contacted my newest conquest friend and asked them if they wished to meet me this Saturday down at a little cement trail the city had built just for this type of insanity.
She laughed, I went by myself.

Once parked in a nice safe spot, I changed into my inline skates; knee pads, elbow pads and the helmet that made me look like one of the aliens from that Sigourney Weaver movie.
I started out a little shaky, trying to keep my balance as I circled my car, using it for support. After I got the balance thing all good I started pushing away from the truck and eventually made it to the three foot wide cement path. The ground was nice and even, no cracks, just a smooth blacktop trial heading off into the distance. I began at a safe speed and eventually worked up to an almost faster speed when I realized that the people ahead of me were dropping off the edge of the world.

“Darn, a hill!” I think I used another word there. Once I reached the top of the hill my momentum carried me over the top and straight down. At this point in my life I really didn’t want to watch it all over again so I turned into the grass and discovered how to stop safely. (The ground was very soft there.)

Once back on my feet I continued, by now I was soaking wet from sweating like a pig being led to slaughter. As I gained on a couple ahead of me, they were walking; I breathlessly asked them how long this track was.
“Six miles,” he said, “you’re about half way through it.”
I think the shocked expression on my face scared them because they began to run, real fast. Just about then, I wished for a lasso.

I plowed on, my legs and back wondering if they lost communication with my brain because they were screaming in agony. I didn’t even bother looking at my watch, but after what seemed like hours of torture, (imagine watching Jerseylicious) I saw the area where I parked my truck.

If my legs didn’t feel so numb I would have started dancing.

As I began the last 100 yards of the journey an older woman, maybe in her late 50’s slowed down and asked if I was okay. I told her I wasn’t sure because every part of my body was numb.
She told me to keep moving but start to slow down. I figured I wasn’t in hurry so why not.

Taking almost baby steps, I continued. Five minutes later a black SUV pulled up beside me, I thought for sure it was the government coming to arrest me for impersonating a physically fit inline skater. It was the woman that passed me a few minutes ago and she told me to get in.

My mom always told me not to get into a car with strangers, but my mom wasn’t here. I opened the door and hopped, err crawled inside, directing her to where my car was parked.

I thanked her as I fell out of her car, asking for her phone number on the way out. I was surprised I got it, but she told me to call her when I got the chance.

At least there was one positive note about my experience, and it wasn’t over yet. After I got home and staggered up the steps to my apartment, I collapsed on the bed. It was only 11am.

I woke the next morning, my body trying to remember how to walk. Muscles I didn’t even know I had screamed out in unison that I really shouldn’t move as I crawled into the bath tub to soak in a hot pool of water.

Two days later, most of the pain was gone and I decided to give it another try. But this time I played it a little smarter; I went to a local a park that had a one and a half mile trail. Once suited up, I pushed off and sailed down the first hill. As I rounded the top – I lost control (If I ever really had any at all) and ran right into the grass, tumbling about 20 feet.

I laid there for a second, testing my body to see if I broke anything, then looked around – good – no one saw me. I continued on the rest of the trail as my knee began bothering, but I assumed it was only old age. I did have one problem when I went down a very steep hill and saw a crowd of people standing at the bottom. I just yelled, “Move out of the way, I don’t know how to stop!” That emptied the trail very quickly.

When I managed to get back to my truck I sat on the tail gate and removed the skates and then the knee pads. That was when the pain hit me, like a ten pound sledge hammer hitting my knee over and over. I managed to hobble to the driver’s seat and thanked God that I didn’t have a manual transmission. The pain was in the right knee so I very carefully drove with my left foot. This took a little getting used to.

The next day, I wasn’t any better – it had swelled up three times its normal size so I had a friend take me to the doctors. It turned out I tore my meniscus in my knee. That required surgery and two weeks of recuperation.
I threw away the roller blades. I’m not touching those again, I wasn’t born with wheels on the soles of my feet, so I would I need to add them.

That’s mine, so tell me, what have you done before that you will never do again? (Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.)

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About hutch1957

Brian Hutchinson was born in the cold windy city of Cleveland, Ohio over fifty-three years ago. Soon afterwards he found his roots, actually tripped over a few first, in Cincinnati, Ohio. In school, he quickly took an interest in literature and writing and over the past forty years has tried to improve his talents. His hobbies, or what managed to interest him for a short time, have been photography, ham radio, movies, science fiction and TV. After surviving marriage for 22 years and two kids, he became single again and remarried a year later, inheriting two more kids. In his spare time he enjoys self torture and playing WoW, reading and watching mysteries and scifi. He has had many professions, and has finally settled down as a Security Guard. Now he twitters and writes in his spare time, or while he is at work. (Which is really the same thing.)

Posted on January 12, 2011, in dating, injuries, knees, Rollerblading, silly things. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Scuba diving. I have always been a strong swimmer so, when on a caribbean vacation, my husband suggested scuba diving, I happily complied.I donned the vest, strapped on the tanks and weights and learned how to breath through a regulator. . .which all made sense until hit the water. Weights to pull me down? BREATH under water? I freaked out 3 feet down, sprang to the surface and waved good-bye to the group as I waited on the beach where it is normal and expected for one to breath.Never again.

  2. I remember those. My high school taught a class on scuba diving, never could get the hang of that thing in my mouth. I lasted just brra couple weeks in there. I also prefer the normal method of breathing on dry land, it just fits us better

  3. Ski. I was an avid skier when a teenager. Went back to it in my mid 20's. Well, it's not like riding a bike. But, I took my time and got my legs back. By the end of the weekend, I was exhausted. Instead of listening to my body, I went on one 'last' run [turned out to be my last]. I fell and ended up going down the hill in a sled towed by ski patrol dudes. They put a makeshift splint on my knee. Had to have someone drive my car home then have my roommate take me to the ER. I sprained my knee but good. I was supposed to go to Utah on a ski trip in 2 weeks. Never made it. It was supposed to be my first trip west of the Mississippi, so I was very disappointed. Didn't know then I'd be calling the west coast home in a few years. Still, I never went skiing again.

  4. I have never tried that, and I don't think my wife would even let me at this point.

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