This entry was purloined from my Runner’s World blog. This happened in May but it should enhance the humor of my falling at the Y.

This is a public service announcement for anyone who may end up running near me.
If you happen to run near me, do be careful. Here's why.
Walking home from work yesterday afternoon I had an incident (accident?). I was walking along, bag over my shoulder, sunglasses on. The sidewalk I was treading was apparently uneven. It wasn't so apparent at the time. One minute I'm walking and the next I'm sprawled all over the sidewalk, aviators slid down perched on the end of my nose. I quickly assessed the damage as I put myself upright. My jeans were torn at the knee and I had already bled through the fabric. There was rocks and dirt embedded under the skin of my palms. Luckily no one saw so I got up and continued as though nothing had happened.
When I got home I changed into shorts to discover I was missing the skin that previously covered my left knee. Hmm. Perhaps I should check the inside of my jeans? Well, it wasn't there. It must've slipped out through the new hole in my jeans. Maybe I left it on the sidewalk. Oh well, it's probably stripped and sold for parts by now.
To add insult to injury, my husband told me if I did all that just walking then I probably didn't need to run, as my one year old gleefully slapped my bloody knees. Thanks, kid.
So I am evidently not coordinated enough to be trusted holding a bag while I walk. God knows what might happen if I had a fuel belt. So beware running near me; I don't wanna take you down with me.
I drove to work today.