Encounters with Exercise Equipment

Alex was such a brave girl yesterday, despite her injury. Around dinnertime, we were feeling a little restless and needed to get out of the house, so we went to the mall. It was surprisingly empty for a Friday night—probably because everyone was headed out of town for the long weekend—so we enjoyed a relaxing dinner, at least as relaxing as eating fast food in the food court can be. Then we wandered the mall a bit and finally ended up in one of our favorite places to visit: Dick’s Sporting Goods. The kids love exploring the camping gear and gadgets, the sports equipment, and the exercise machines. Alex was particularly anxious to try out one of the “bikes you pedal but they don't go anywhere.” She tried one of those out and then decided to give a stairmaster a try. I wasn’t watching when it happened, so I’m not sure exactly how she hurt herself, but somehow she slipped and her ankle got caught in a part of the machine. She was in tears, and after comforting her, we left with me carrying the baby and Alex in the stroller.

Her ankle looked pretty bad—already black and blue—and I thought she would probably suffer for a few days with it. I promised her an ice pack when we got home and even offered to carry her from the car into the house. But she just hopped out like normal and said it felt a little “weird” but was fine. This morning she seems perfectly normal and hasn’t complained a bit. Not so with my little princess…

 Mark and I decided to work out together this morning. I started on the treadmill and he on the gym. Our kids are normally real great about being careful around the equipment, Audrey included. Again, I didn’t see what happened; the treadmill just suddenly started making a strange noise, so I pulled the emergency stop. I turned around to see Audrey with her hand stuck in the end where the belt turns. As Mark and I rushed to rescue her, a terrible image of my sweet baby’s fingers dangling by a thread on to her adorable, soft, pudgy hands flickered through my mind. Thankfully, although her hand is pretty torn up with a layer of skin missing from the palm, her precious little fingers are still intact.

I slathered her hand in Neosporin and bandaged it up. The poor little thing is so pitiful, and I feel so badly for her. I think she’s more scared than anything. She’s been a trooper, though, and we even got some smiles out of her when we went for pizza.

 

We never got the third doctor’s visit I was expecting since “they” say things come in threes. Here’s hoping we won’t have a third encounter with evil exercise equipment.