In my very first column for The Cavalier Daily, I wrote about the time I fell down the stairs behind Bryan Hall and ripped a hole in my pants. I recalled my embarrassment and described how my fellow students' reactions to my mangled, bloodied form at the bottom of the stairway was less than empathetic. I said there was no right way to recover from tripping in public, because even laughing it off makes you look like a crazy weirdo giggling to yourself.
It is funny how little has changed 2.5 years later -- and by that I mean I am still just as spastic.
Several weeks ago, I was running on the indoor track. As I mentioned in a recent column, I'm more of an elliptical girl myself. But because I am a fourth-year, and therefore only have so many free gym days left, I've been trying to take advantage of them. Also, I discovered that running in circles for 10 minutes is slightly more satisfying than running nowhere on a treadmill.
So I was rocking the track in my favorite pink sneakers, proud that I forced myself to run at all, jamming to Miley Cyrus, when suddenly as I turned the corner, landed funny on my ankle, heard something snap and completely wiped out.
Dazed, I sprawled out on the stubbly blue track turf, watching 10 or so runners charge toward me, no doubt jealous they had been trailing me thus far. I felt like Mufasa in "The Lion King" when he is about to be trampled by a hoard of wildebeests, except that an evil, scheming lion was not to blame for my face plant.
I struggled to my feet and hugged the railing for physical and moral support. One runner slowed down to ask if I was OK and assured me that it was no big deal, that I should have seen him when he fell down a flight of stairs. I laughed weakly in response. Nice try with the sympathy, but that happens to me at least once a month. No comfort there. I limped off the track, full of shame and the small thrill that I had an excuse for skipping the gym for the next couple days.
My objective in revealing this embarrassing story is first that it may serve as a cautionary tale to people who are not graceful when they run. My right ankle still kills every time I stretch it a certain way and it swelled up so much that I had one huge cankle for about a week and had to keep icing it with bags of frozen edamame.
Tripping dramatically in public again made me wonder how much we change at the end of four years of college and how much we've really learned. It is apparent that I am not any more graceful than I was at 19, nor am I any better at recovering from a spill in public. Sure, in general we're all a heck of a lot sketchier, practiced at the art of avoiding awkward hookups. Maybe even better at beer pong, although I can't include myself in this assumption because I only make the first -- and, once in a while, the last -- cup.
Maybe we are more intelligent about subjects we never knew would interest us, and although despite the University forcing me to fulfill the science requirements, I still couldn't tell you anything about sediment, the ecology of coastlines, photosynthesis or the digestive system.
But if college has taught us anything, it is that the experiences, rather than facts or memorization, are the most valuable after we've moved on from the world of undergraduate academia.
If anything, falling on your face prepares you for embarrassing situations in the real world: If you can get up from a fall, you can definitely handle corporate America. I'm not exactly sure how, because no one has hired me yet, but it sounds right. At least you'll know how to react if your suave reputation is compromised and you can improve on how to prevent future humiliating situations from happening or maximize your coolness potential when the situation arises again. For example, I still run on the indoor track at the gym, admittedly more fearful than I was before of turning corners at top speed. And now I know to make sure my legs aren't flailing crazily when I run. I still brave concrete stairs around Grounds, although when there is a banister, I clutch it for safekeeping. Embarrassing myself in public has made me more aware of myself, if nothing else, and I have the University to thank for teaching me.
Mary's column ran biweekly Fridays. She can be reached at mbaroch@cavalierdaily.com.
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