I must confess, I am a klutz. Not your average, run-of-the-mill klutz, but one who consistently has bruises from bumping into tables, has sported three broken toes from walking into things (and once kicking my dysfunctional car too hard), second degree burns at least once a month from kitchen mishaps and the yearly trip to the emergency room to stich something up.
And now, a sprained ankle.
It was my third time attempting IMAX 3; I was preparing to give a particularly enthusiastic, and to my mind, masterful display of athletic prowess during the third interval (lunges), when I slipped (crashed) off the end of the step to the sound of a loud snap from my ankle. No jumping for me for at least two weeks. . . sigh. My husband came home, shook his head and told me I needed to stay in a padded room.
Any other klutzes out there?
L
And now, a sprained ankle.
It was my third time attempting IMAX 3; I was preparing to give a particularly enthusiastic, and to my mind, masterful display of athletic prowess during the third interval (lunges), when I slipped (crashed) off the end of the step to the sound of a loud snap from my ankle. No jumping for me for at least two weeks. . . sigh. My husband came home, shook his head and told me I needed to stay in a padded room.
Any other klutzes out there?
L