Injury.

Picture this:

A skater, the ice to herself, glides shakily into view, balancing on her right foot with her left leg extended behind her. Her arms are out away from her sides in an attempt at grace, and she actually feels pretty good, until BAM! Her right skate finds a rut. With her hands too far out and legs too far back to break her fall, she crashes directly onto her face. She gets up right away, without feeling almost any pain, but the world is spinny and she is rattled beyond belief. Another skater glides out and asks her if she's okay, and she replies that she's fine (strange after a fall that bad, she thinks) and finishes her remaining half hour of ice time. In the car on the way home, she happens to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror and almost slams on the brakes. Her entire chin is covered with a gooey mass of dried and fresh blood. No wonder the other girl looked at her so strangely. She cleans her face as best she can at home and tells her grossed-out family she'll be fine, but after consulting a physician friend at her brother's tennis tournament, she reluctantly drives over to the local InstaCare and receives eight tiny stitches.

So here I am, mild concussion, local bruising, eight stitches and all. :-) What a way to fill a day.

In other news, I experienced the strangest physical phenomenon I've ever felt today. After my bad fall (which at the time didn't seem so bad), my body went into some kind of mild shock. My blood pressure soared, everything felt electrified, and I didn't feel capable of doing anything on the ice except go straight, and even then, during the simplest of all ice skating maneuvers, I felt shaky. It was like my body forcibly forgot all the little, technical things I'd been doing for the last hour. I couldn't make myself jump or make a quick backwards turn. I honestly couldn't force my body to put itself into another precarious position. My mind, of course, was incredibly frustrated, and I spent the next half hour trying to make my body power through. My body, though, must have known how badly it was hurt and wouldn't allow me to take any more risks. I couldn't do it. It was honestly as if there was a physical barrier between me and the capacity to jump. Eventually I forced the envelope and made myself jump backwards a few more times, but my moves came off with such a weird, forced degree of caution that it almost wasn't worth it. Today I've learned to listen to my body--because if I don't, I've learned that it can decide to override my consciousness and take control. WEIRD.