At BYU where I earned my undergraduate degree there is a long, long, long set of stairs up from the athletic building up to the rest of campus. At the beginning of my college career running up those stairs was a feat. Coming from the altitude bereft Washington to the heights of Utah, I found myself huffing and puffing on a regular basis.
By the end of my scholastic time there I was able to leap up those steps, taking often taking two at a time. I was quite proud of my hard earned ability.
Except, of course for the one time I was running late to class (as usual). It was that day that I learned the lethal combination of cheap rubber flip flops and wet cement stairs. The pain of hard, unforgiving stairs pounding into the small of my back is not an easily forgotten sensation.
So when I was running late to a meeting this afternoon, wearing flip flops and, once again, practically flying down concrete stairs with metal-tipped corners the following thought actually crossed my mind, "Katie. Slow down. If you fell right now this mystery flavored dum dum in your mouth might actually smash through the soft back of your throat and impale your brain."
And so I slowed down. I'd hate to render myself brain-dead at work. How embarrassing....