Fell on my face a lot this weekend.
Friday night it was metaphorical; Saturday morning it was literal.
The dance was capital-S Strange, a mix of incredibly fit people my age and much younger people. The only other woman there without a date is a size-2 Spin instructor who looked great in her midriff-baring genie costume and long blonde wig despite being over 50. Every single guy in the room spent the evening trying to get next to her. Honestly, watching the spectacle helped me recognize the challenges a woman like that faces.
On Saturday morning, I set up for what I thought was Lift class, including two risers beneath my step and my usual set of weights. The class turned out to be something called Strength and Endurance Training that could be used as a form of torture. About half way through the hour, the sweat dripping in my eyes blinded me for a moment. I misjudged the step, twisted my ankle, and fell. Total face plant in front of God and 43 aerobics bunnies. The instructor came running to make sure I hadn't broken anything. I got up and finished the class.
Meh. I never wanted to go back to that class anyway.