Over the winter break, the Mild Girlfriend and I spent some time hanging out with family in Colorado. I don't head out that way as often as I would like, so it was good to see folks. However, the trip was not without its drawbacks. As it turns out, it's possible to hurt yourself on vacation, when you least expect it.
On one of the warmer days, we decided to take a stroll through Garden of the Gods, in Colorado Springs. Sure, it was cold, but it wasn't snowing, nor was it freezing outside. All in all, we figured it'd be fine to walk through the park. There were a bunch of other people there, too, so we couldn't have been too wrong (either that, or we were all suffering from mass hysteria).
Regardless, for all that it has an impressive sounding name, the Garden of the Gods park is mostly just some flat walking. There are lots of really, really tall rocks and peaks, but none of us were trained climbers. That was out of the question, especially in that weather. However, there are also some trails that criss-cross their way through the park, so we moseyed our way through a few of those. None of the trails were super long, nor were they the variety that required crampons or walking sticks. Again, it was more or less just walking.
However, there were plenty of rocks just lying about. Most of them were just scenery, but every now and then, there were a few that an adventurous soul might choose to scramble on top of. Say, an adventurous soul who walks through trails that may or may not have bears on them. You know, just for fun.
I did get some pretty fun pictures out of it, so I'm not about to complain. Still, on one of my very first scrambles up rocks, I managed to scrape up my hand. I was trying to grab a hand hold, and in the process, a sharp part of the rock cut into my hand. I didn't think much of it until I got down; I'd managed to break the skin, and there was a small dollop of blood on my hand. I was just going to close my hand and let the blood clot, but the Mild Girlfriend broke out some wipes that I could use instead (she's much more civilized about stuff like that).
Well, it was a boo boo, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. I still had full use of all of my limbs, I wasn't a mess, and I could still walk and hike with everyone. Then we got to the two rocks sitting roughly a foot apart from each other. My sister climbed up on to one, and I decided that I was going to climb up on to the other one. The foot holds for the second rock (the one I wanted to climb) weren't quite as good, prompting someone to suggest that we simply climb the same rock.
Pft. I wasn't going to let a stationary object beat me. In fact, I was pretty sure that I could hop up there. Also, I can be slightly impatient. So, I braced myself, grabbed as good a hand hold as I could, and then hopped forward. Success! I banged my knee a little bit, but I was on my rock, just as planned. We took a picture, we shared a laugh, and all was right in the world.
When I got down, however, I looked down. My jeans had torn, right where I had banged my knee. Well, crap. I certainly hadn't planned on that. I was actually amazed that they had torn at all, since denim is usually meant to be sturdy. Heck, that's why I wear jeans when I'm going to be doing things like climbing on to rocks by the side of the trail. So long as the jeans are comfortable and I have full range of motion, they should be sturdy enough to give me some protection. Alas, this was not the case. I had a nice gash in my jeans, right below the left knee.
Speaking of gashes, I also realized that I had a nice gash right below my left knee, as well. It wasn't a life threatening injury by any means, but it did bleed a bit. More than anything else, it was annoying. Imagine if you'd fallen down and scraped your knee on a playground. It was roughly like that. I was still perfectly fine to hike, but I was going to be just a tad less adventurous.
All of this, however, was just the lead up to the comedy. First, my sister banned me from climbing on any more rocks. Yes, my younger sister laid down the law and would not let me climb. There weren't really any other opportunities for rock climbing/scrambling, but if there had been, I would not have been permitted to partake. Second of all, I had to disinfect and cover the wound, so at one point I found myself outside of a grocery store with a rolled up pant leg, a Neosporin spray, and some bandages. I think a passerby or two gave me a funny look, but they more or less figured out what I was doing quickly.
The best part of all, however, came a few weeks later. By then, the gash on my knee had started to heal, so I no longer had a gash. Instead, I had a scab. The Mild Girlfriend happened to need a bandage for her hand, so we stopped off at a grocery store to buy some. Out of sheer amusement, we bought the Hello Kitty bandages for her (she's always liked the character anyway). A couple of hours later, I accidentally opened up the wound (it was unintentional, I swear). I could clean the wound, but I still needed to cover the wound. Well, I knew the answer to that one; we'd just solved that problem a couple of hours later.
So, that friends, is how I came to be sport a Hello Kitty band aid on my left knee.
On one of the warmer days, we decided to take a stroll through Garden of the Gods, in Colorado Springs. Sure, it was cold, but it wasn't snowing, nor was it freezing outside. All in all, we figured it'd be fine to walk through the park. There were a bunch of other people there, too, so we couldn't have been too wrong (either that, or we were all suffering from mass hysteria).
Regardless, for all that it has an impressive sounding name, the Garden of the Gods park is mostly just some flat walking. There are lots of really, really tall rocks and peaks, but none of us were trained climbers. That was out of the question, especially in that weather. However, there are also some trails that criss-cross their way through the park, so we moseyed our way through a few of those. None of the trails were super long, nor were they the variety that required crampons or walking sticks. Again, it was more or less just walking.
However, there were plenty of rocks just lying about. Most of them were just scenery, but every now and then, there were a few that an adventurous soul might choose to scramble on top of. Say, an adventurous soul who walks through trails that may or may not have bears on them. You know, just for fun.
I did get some pretty fun pictures out of it, so I'm not about to complain. Still, on one of my very first scrambles up rocks, I managed to scrape up my hand. I was trying to grab a hand hold, and in the process, a sharp part of the rock cut into my hand. I didn't think much of it until I got down; I'd managed to break the skin, and there was a small dollop of blood on my hand. I was just going to close my hand and let the blood clot, but the Mild Girlfriend broke out some wipes that I could use instead (she's much more civilized about stuff like that).
Well, it was a boo boo, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. I still had full use of all of my limbs, I wasn't a mess, and I could still walk and hike with everyone. Then we got to the two rocks sitting roughly a foot apart from each other. My sister climbed up on to one, and I decided that I was going to climb up on to the other one. The foot holds for the second rock (the one I wanted to climb) weren't quite as good, prompting someone to suggest that we simply climb the same rock.
Pft. I wasn't going to let a stationary object beat me. In fact, I was pretty sure that I could hop up there. Also, I can be slightly impatient. So, I braced myself, grabbed as good a hand hold as I could, and then hopped forward. Success! I banged my knee a little bit, but I was on my rock, just as planned. We took a picture, we shared a laugh, and all was right in the world.
When I got down, however, I looked down. My jeans had torn, right where I had banged my knee. Well, crap. I certainly hadn't planned on that. I was actually amazed that they had torn at all, since denim is usually meant to be sturdy. Heck, that's why I wear jeans when I'm going to be doing things like climbing on to rocks by the side of the trail. So long as the jeans are comfortable and I have full range of motion, they should be sturdy enough to give me some protection. Alas, this was not the case. I had a nice gash in my jeans, right below the left knee.
Speaking of gashes, I also realized that I had a nice gash right below my left knee, as well. It wasn't a life threatening injury by any means, but it did bleed a bit. More than anything else, it was annoying. Imagine if you'd fallen down and scraped your knee on a playground. It was roughly like that. I was still perfectly fine to hike, but I was going to be just a tad less adventurous.
All of this, however, was just the lead up to the comedy. First, my sister banned me from climbing on any more rocks. Yes, my younger sister laid down the law and would not let me climb. There weren't really any other opportunities for rock climbing/scrambling, but if there had been, I would not have been permitted to partake. Second of all, I had to disinfect and cover the wound, so at one point I found myself outside of a grocery store with a rolled up pant leg, a Neosporin spray, and some bandages. I think a passerby or two gave me a funny look, but they more or less figured out what I was doing quickly.
The best part of all, however, came a few weeks later. By then, the gash on my knee had started to heal, so I no longer had a gash. Instead, I had a scab. The Mild Girlfriend happened to need a bandage for her hand, so we stopped off at a grocery store to buy some. Out of sheer amusement, we bought the Hello Kitty bandages for her (she's always liked the character anyway). A couple of hours later, I accidentally opened up the wound (it was unintentional, I swear). I could clean the wound, but I still needed to cover the wound. Well, I knew the answer to that one; we'd just solved that problem a couple of hours later.
So, that friends, is how I came to be sport a Hello Kitty band aid on my left knee.
Comments
Post a Comment