Daft Old Duffer returns. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
For a handful of years around the age of fourteen or so, I took a keen interest in the then current fad for Judo. I couldn’t follow it very far, having no money for the kit, or lessons, or even the bus fare to get to the lessons.
But I did teach myself a few tricks. Most importantly, how to fall, or be thrown to the ground, without suffering injury. In fact I practised myself to the level where I could run full tilt at a four foot fence and dive over, landing undamaged on the far side.
(Alright – but I was just a kid remember).
Any road up, at that point I discovered what girls are for. And that was the end of that.
Fast forward
Until the morning, when I fell fundament over top-end while running to catch a bus.
Well, not fundament over actually. I put it like that for effect. And nor did I crash to the cement in the more traditional manner – down on one knee, causing bruising, then onto one wrist, causing fracture, then onto one shoulder and finally head, causing cracked skull and much blood.
Instead time seemed to slow, which is another way of saying my brain processes automatically speeded up in response to the danger. And as I reached the point of no return I quite calmly told myself there was no way of saving myself and I had better get ready for the impact.
From deep in my subconscious
I hit the ground in the way I had learned nearly three quarters of a century earlier and had never used or thought of since, flat and spread, a sack of flour rather than a rigid plank. My hands and forearms, protecting my face, slapped down hard, thus absorbing much of the impact.
And even as bystanders were registering alarm and concern at the grey headed old fella crashing down like that, I was getting up, smiling a little in embarrassment, and getting on the bus.
Lucky escape
Sitting in my seat, fully as amazed as everybody else at my escape, I mentally checked for anything I may have missed.
Nope. Not the slightest sign of any pain, and no hint of going into shock. My breathing was calm, my heart beat normal.
Indeed, I was most concerned about my specs, which were in a breast pocket.
Fortunately they were in a hard case and escaped damage. As did my chest from that same hard case.
I was spared serious injury not because I had my purple pants on, or because I sprouted spider web from my wrists or turned green with rage. Because some part of my unnoticed brain, hard wired at age fifteen or so, had lasted all those years, unexercised and yet uncorroded and undamaged, ready to spring into instant action when called upon.
Truly the subconscious is a powerful weapon. If once it realises its full potential it will surely conquer the universe.
Image: Eric Fischer under CC BY 2.0
