Today, I fell.

This morning, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, so I went downstairs to the workout room to run on the treadmill at the hotel. I hate treadmills. But it was convenient and efficient so I figured I would give it a whirl.

Turns out, it gave me a whirl. Two minutes in, my head phones got tangled. I reached for my phone. It fell, I missed a step and it all ended in a big messy pile. (Me.)

There was nothing I could do. It was like I stepped out of my body for a minute and I watched it happen, totally and completely helpless. Of course the room was packed. (Please feel free to take a second and laugh at the visual--I am, now.)

Every single person in the room stopped their own machines to come help me--collectively restoring my faith in humanity. 

I picked myself up and thanked everyone, assuring them I was (mostly) ok. I got back on the treadmill and started running again. I'm not going to lie, it hurt like hell. But I thought about my 8yo figure skater, who bravely has to get back up every time she falls on the ice. My knees are both skinned, my shins are scraped and bruised and I have some weird rubber-burn on the side of my leg that I can't even describe. And I probably don't have to tell you about my damaged pride. But...I got back up. 

I won't know if I see any of those people today, my mind has kindly blocked out their faces. But if they see me, I don't want them to think, "There's the girl that fell." I want them to think, "There goes the girl that got back up." 

We all fall. But it's the getting back up part that matters.