I had just passed three and a quarter miles on the treadmill when he walked through the gym. Tall, very athletic and absolutely the biggest guy I had ever seen in person. His arms were huge, his chest absolutely enormous. His thighs had to be the size of my waist. What is that movie line, "his cones were bigger than mine?" (Okay, shut up! I know that doesn't take much).

He was talking with the gym manager at the time and all I could do was stare. I was completely in awe. I found myself not staring in admiration necessarily but more dumbfounded by the sheer size of the guy. It was then that he caught my gaze.

The smile crossed his face and he turned his attention back to Rhonda but then glanced my way again. I'm sure he thought I was admiring all of his efforts with the free weights. Rhonda caught me staring as well and waved me over.

I began to slow the treadmill and tried to think of how to be polite and unembarrassed when it happened.

Not the gaze across the crowded room, no electric spark. I didn't hear Puccini over the loudspeaker. In the process of trying to slow the treadmill, be nonchalant and graceful at the same time my betraying feet caught underneath me.

Those of you who know me are familiar with my moments of grace as well as those moments when I am a complete spaz. Trust me when I tell you this was a complete spaz moment.

My body twisted off the treadmill, my hands on the rails, my feet splayed out behind me and down I went off the back like a mouse spit out by it's wheel.

Ah, but fear not for our heroine's safety loyal readers. Just as quickly as I slid off the treadmill I jumped up, bowed ever so gracefully and proclaimed "now for my next trick!" to a hearty round of applause in the circuit room of my gym - thank you very much!