Today is a record 44 degrees and balmy. I loaded up the car and headed to my other office, “ The Panera,” when I noticed my running shoes laying in the backseat of the car—all laced up ready to go. They only thing they were missing were my two feet. I ripped off my scarf, took off my gloves and coat, and shouted, “Yippee, no more ice!”
You know the saying, “pride cometh before a fall.” I laced up my running shoes and started jogging down the driveway. I got about 25 feet from the car and there it was—a patch of black ice—desperately trying to melt. I don’t remember much after that, but I literally skated on thin ice with my arms flailing in every direction. I heard a pop in my left shoulder (the one with a newly torn rotator cuff), and then came the “zinger”—it’s like an electric shock that doesn’t go away. Good thing I already have a scheduled appointment with the orthopedist on Friday.
I dragged my body back to the car and started out again and thought to myself, The statistics are right…most accidents occur within a five-mile radius from the home. Yes, I guess that applies to skating accidents. It’s ironic that I cancelled a speaking engagement in West Virginia because of black ice and ended up almost “breaking my neck” twenty-five feet from our house.
I called my mom in California and she reminded me that things aren’t that “rosy” in California: there’s fog, rain, and occasional frost.”
“Yes, Mom, I remember…”
But the one thing they don’t have is ice—baby—ice!
Will I miss the ice storms on the East Coast?
No more skating on thin ice for this “girl.”