I don’t worry about falling. When I can’t get up, there will be a problem. And please, don't offer to help me up. I can do it.

At the rate I’m taking tumbles, that day may be approaching sooner than I think. 

Case in point, last week I was sitting on my stability ball in my room when I leaned too far back and flipped over, landing on my back and crashing into a shelf. I dusted myself off, straightened the books and stood up. All good. No problem. Be more careful next time. Lesson learned.

The next day, running on icy, snowy trails above Fernan Lake, my foot slid sideways on a downhill, steep stretch and I felt a tweak in my right knee. The good news was that I stayed upright. Bad news, my knee has been twinging ever since. Still, it could have been worse. Stay positive.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t through with my accidental acrobatics. 

Tired while running on Tubbs, I tripped on a rocky patch and went down hard on my knee. More embarrassing than anything because there were witnesses. 

Sunday night, I retrieved the blankets from the doghouse on the back deck to wash them, as they get a bit smelly. I loaded them up in my arms and walked through the living room to the stairs leading to the laundry room downstairs.  

My wife claims she told me the blankets were hanging down near my feet. It’s possible. I have been known for not always hearing what she says. 

About two-thirds of the way down the stairs, my left foot caught on a blanket and I slipped, bouncing the rest of the way to the landing. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Are you OK?” I heard my wife yell. 

“I’m fine,” I said, standing up only to discover I could not walk.

I hobbled to the washing machine, tossed in the blankets and cursed myself for being stupid. Yes, I’m grateful it wasn’t worse, but I'm still kicking myself. 

While I can bike and walk without pain, I haven’t been able to run. And as I'm training for Race to Robie Creek in Boise, a mountainous half-marathon, in April, I’m greatly annoyed. 

But falling seems to be my thing — and I've survived some epic falls. 

There was the one at Glacier National Park when I was running on a flat but rocky trail, caught my foot and flopped down face-first in the dirt.

And then there was the time I was crossing an icy patch near Springy Point when we lived in Sagle, slipped, went down and broke my leg. I gimped my way about a mile home so I could complete the 10 miles.

In a marathon on Kauai that started in the dark, I was jogging easily along in the first mile when I looked to admire the stars. Right then, my foot caught a crack in the walkway, and I crashed down on my knees and hands. 

Perhaps my greatest fall was on the Kalalau Trail on Kauai, when I was running hard downhill and my foot hit a wet rock. I flipped up and landed with a thud in a puddle on my back, staring into the sky. That was a doozy.

If it sounds like I fall a lot, well, that's OK, because I do. But as long as I can get up and keep going, I’m good. 

Just the same, if you come across an old guy on Tubbs Hill trying to get up, go ahead and give him a hand. He won’t want to, but he will. 

After all, it's good to fall and try, try again.

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Bill Buley is managing editor of The Press. He can be reached at [email protected].