Maybe Pride, Definite Fall.

My walking improved over the last day or so. Not hugely, but enough for me to notice; some connection has been made in my brain between the balance part and the part that controls my right leg, hip and foot. As happens frequently when I've made any sort of progress, I promptly fell over. 

It was the first time I've fallen in the gym, and it was fairly spectacular. I was mere inches from sitting heavily and gracelessly on the bench, but instead hit the floor with two 30lb dumb bells in tow. My pride was far more hurt than I am, especially since there were people around (at 8am on a Saturday!), who helped me up and racked the weights. The help chafed but was welcome, because the surprise of falling on my ass was a bit of a shock. Later, I would be lifting heavier weights, but the amount of metal is less significant than my internal (im)balance. 

Strangely, it was a sort of relief. One of the criteria for my current inability to work is that I can't carry a (light) weight around regularly. I claim this and yet I go to the gym and lift weights; surely I'm lying? The fall was an accident, but an ample demonstration of what happens when I don't concentrate all the time that I'm carrying anything. Going to the gym is tiring both because I'm working out, but also because I have to pay attention all the time.

Happily, the rubber floor in the free weights section saved me from all but a bruised behind, and if I was a bit pleased with myself, that got put in perspective.