You get home from work.
You have something to eat.
You take your son and go to the local arena.
You put your skates on.
You skate together for awhile.
You let your tired son sit on the bench while you go it alone a couple times.
You think your new skates are finally getting broken in.
You think you can skate like you could when you were 20.
You get cocky and speed up.
You come out of the turn like Earnhardt.
You see punk teenager flailing around trying to keep from falling.
You see your life flash before your eyes.
You feel like everything is moving in slow motion.
You see it coming.
You can't stop it.
WHAM!
You're down.
You think your hand and tailbone are broken.
You tell other teenager you're fine but too old for this shit and then have visions of placing your toe pick on said teenager as you realize he asked you...
"Are you ok MA'AM??"
(You really should be grateful there are still polite teenagers out there)
You slink away and resume skating pace set by your 5 year old.
You take skates off.
You go home.