If you’ve been reading this blog, following my flickr photos, or watching my steps on Walkertracker, you probably know that I’ve been working out pretty regularly for the past six months. I find gym culture to be fascinating. I enjoy observing how people workout, what they wear, who they interact with, and how much they actually know about fitness (evidenced by what they’re doing, how they’re stretching, and how much attention they’re paying to their workout). There’s a part of me that silently observes and judges people. I like to think that I’m more hardcore than other people at the gym - I’ve got the fancy running shoes, I wear a pedometer AND a heart rate monitor, I know my heart rate zones, and I *don’t* need to be distracted by a TV. This morning at the gym, I crossed over the hardcore line into the dumbass area. I was running on the treadmill, doing my usual pace, when all of the sudden my left knee was down on the actual track. I’m not sure what happened but I guess I must have tripped (or perhaps I was so exhausted, my leg decided to quit?). I tried to hold on and pull myself up but before I knew it, my right knee also went down on the track. All of this of course happened within a split of a second. While all of this is happening, the track is still running at 4 mph, which sounds slow but feels like 80 mph when you’re sitting on the track instead of running it. The voice inside my head tried to make sense of the situation, but failed - “WHOA! WHAT HAPPENED TO US! STOP! WE NEED TO HIT THE STOP BUTTON! MUST REACH THE STOP BUTTON! WE’RE GOING TO DIE! IS ANYBODY SEEING THIS? WHY ISN’T ANYBODY OVER HERE STOPPING IT! STOP!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WE’RE GOING TO DIE!!!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! I TOLD YOU WE WERE TIRED BUT YOU WOULDN’T STOP!!! I KNEW YOU WEREN’T SMART ENOUGH TO CONTROL OUR BODY!” OK, the voice inside my head didn’t say that last part but you get the idea. While my brain was racing, I tried to reach over to the stop button but couldn’t reach it. Finally, my arms and head fell to the track, which bounced me off the treadmill and onto the floor. Not the best way to start your Thursday morning. As a result of the ordeal, I scraped both of my knees very badly. They hurt and burn and seem to like to send burn signals to the rest of the nerves in my legs. In an odd yet convenient coincidence, I had a follow-up appointment with my dermatologist scheduled this afternoon so I had her check it out while I was there. You know your injury is pretty bad when even the doctor shrieks and turns her head away. I didn’t think my injury was that bad (I figured a little Neosporin would do the trick) but apparently both of my scrapes are deep. She prescribed an antibiotic ointment (which I need to pick up tomorrow) and LOTS of bandaging supplies (gauze, paper tape, non-adhesive pads).  Oh, and I’m probably going to have scars on both of my knees.  Sweet.  I’m not sure what I’ve learned (if anything) from this whole thing, other than I’m more of a dumbass than hardcore when it comes to working out.