Charlotte Latvala: Falling forward inevitable, but you don't have to go down
Have you fallen lately? Wobbled? Caught yourself?
If you can’t remember, don’t worry. That means you are under 30 and quite likely bounced back from a slight trip on the rug or stumble on the staircase without a thought. I’ll say this about that: Enjoy your time spent upright, because your balance and coordination are currently the best they will ever be.
I was walking with a friend the other day, taking the same route we always take, over sidewalks that have been familiar to me for years. Chatting away about this or that, not paying any attention to … well, much of anything. Why would we? There was no snow, no wet pavement, no slippery layer of autumn leaves. It was May, and the weather was dry and sunny.
Which is why it was such a shock when I found myself suddenly rocketing forward, then plunging downward at incredible speed. The sidewalk grew closer and closer as my arms shot into motion, windmilling furiously as my legs scrambled to keep up, my body at a 45-degree angle to the ground.
It seemed to go on for minutes, this Looney Tunes-style action (missing only the cloud of dust around my feet a la the Roadrunner). The flapping arms, the thundering feet, the look of shock and terror that must have been on my face.
Dear reader, I did not fall. I managed – just barely – to steer the ship upright.
I suffered no injury other than the embarrassment of flailing away on a public street. (“I’m amazed you didn’t fall!” said a random woman walking toward us, in a congratulatory tone. I half expected her to applaud and hold up a rating card: “Balance: 1. Form: 2. Recovery: 9!”)
After the adrenaline receded and I caught my breath, my friend and I looked back on the sidewalk. What did I trip on? There was no obvious culprit behind us – no rogue rock or wayward stick or unexpected crack in the pavement.
Unless. Well, unless it was my own dumb feet.
I recently bought myself a pair of trendy walking shoes at a price that made me shudder, but I justified by telling myself: “I walk a lot, these are good for me, and everyone I know is raving about these shoes.”
And indeed, I do love my new shoes. It’s like walking around with comforting pillows on your feet. They are springy, and cushiony, and soothing.
But they are big. And bulky. And flare out on the sides more than any shoes I’ve ever owned. It’s been a small learning curve getting used to them. Because occasionally, they trip me up.
So now I’m carefully, consciously planting my feet, one in front of the other, to make sure I don’t bring greater misfortune and embarrassment upon myself.
Falling down is an inevitable part of life, literally and figuratively. But it’s always better if you’re not the cause of your own downfall.
Charlotte is a columnist for The Times. You can reach her at [email protected].
This article originally appeared on Beaver County Times: Latvala: Falling forward inevitable, but you don't have to go down