A Slippery Slope

I'm struggling to write my blog at the moment.  Since last Wednesday, I have been overcome with the idea that sometimes life is just a little bit shit. The weather has been awful to end-of-the-world proportions and despite many conversations with friends about siezing the day because the future might not be as certain as you thought it was going to be I've struggled to get past the initial idea.

This weekend, however, I had decided that things were going to be different.  I was going to eat well, exercise, play less candy crush and see the positive in all things.  Watching the snowboarding I was impressed by some people's fearless grasp of life.  I felt slightly guilty at moping around with my two feet firmly planted on the ground, when there were these brave (although possibly slightly stupid) people who throw themselves hundreds of feet in the air, tumbling and twisting before they land.  I can't even begin to comprehend how they can do that.

I can't even manage small slopes.  It was an eventful dog walk on Saturday.  There was the Vicar of Dibley puddle moment, when the water was suddenly over my wellies, the rain that felt like icicles, the rainbow and the sunshine so low and in my eyes that made me walk straight into a prickly bush and then there was the slippery slope of mud.  This particular slope of mud led straight to the edge of the river Blackwater, which was flowing fast enough to attract white water rafters and I slipped.  The instant, "Oh shit," feeling, as I felt the muscle just below my left knee tear was instantly replaced by a suddend desire to survive and not land in the torrent of water below. I slid down the slope on one twisted foot the opposite hand and hip, just managing to stop myself before splashdown.  Luckily, the rain managed to wash off all the mud, except the one spot under my glasses where I'd rubbed my eye.

Now that I'm consigned to the sofa with a bag of frozen peas strapped to my leg, watching people throw themselves off mountains, I am again struggling with being positive. Although, without the enforced rest I probably wouldn't have seen Jenny Jones win the bronze medal at the Olympics and join the Long Suffering Husband cheering when other people fell over.