This weekend I went ice skating. It's a fun activity if you're coordinated. Okay, it's fun even if you're not coordinated. It's just a lot more painful. Unfortunately I belong in the "Not Coordinated" category; always have, always will. Some days it's a struggle just to walk down the street without hurting myself. My GR friends can verify this. One night on the way back to the car after an arena football game, I tripped on, well, nothing and just got my hands out in front of me fast enough to prevent my nose from hitting the concrete. Yeah, I know. Cat-like reflexes, grace. My ma says I'm real catch. Anyway, the ice skating went quite well considering my handicap. I was able to walk away from it with one 2-inch diameter bruise on my knee and that bruise was well worth it. I don't remember exactly how I fell, but I know I was trying to stop to talk to my friends who were clustered at the end of the ice. I lost my balance, lurched forward, and somehow ended up sliding about 10 feet on my back, finally coming to a stop in full, spread-eagle position. I groaned, then rolled over and got up, finishing with a flourish. Eat your heart out, Carrie Strugg. We all know who the real hero is.