I'm not the most coordinated individual. At the end of a run this morning, I'm jogging along the sidewalk in Beacon Hill, when I trip, fly in the air, and *splat* land flat on the ground. My knees are banged up, my left arm and elbow are a mess of road rash, and my palms are scraped. But the most bruised part of me is my ego.
With everyone staring at me, I got up quickly, smiled and laughed nervously, and kept on going.