Is roller blading supposed to be a blood sport?

So it was another BEAUTIFUL day -- meaning I had to take Zyrtec, Claritin, and Benadryl to go outside.  I love allergy season spring.  But with sufficient allergy meds on board, Ena and I ventured out to Steele Indian School park.  We discovered that it's a beautiful park, that it's under-appreciated, perfect for roller blading, and that blood and dirt will show on a white jacket.  Steele has a lot of really cool features, including what I'ma call the "Death Spiral" desert garden.  It spirals gently down to a central water feature.  Except, that I thought the outside trail looked too gentle -- I mean it didn't even look like it went downhill.   So, "Hey," I said, "Let's go down the disabled ramp."  Genius.   (Anyone who's ever skied with me knows this particular technique of mine -- I peek down a slope, make an uninformed snap decision, yell it to my friends, and take off.)  I made it to the first turn.   I was picking up speed.  Ena was yelling "Brake!  Brake!"  I'm thinkin' "Brake, my ass" -- 'cuz I don't really know how to use my brake so much.  But I thought I could just hang on through the gnarly hairpin turn.  (I don't know how those people in wheelchairs do it.   I guess they brake.)  Well, I underestimated the narrow ramp, the steepness of the slope, the rocks and debris, and way overestimated my ability to brake or turn.  And when I recoiled in fear right at the big moment, my ass-numbing fall was inevitable.  There was a bit of blood and I think I embedded some things in my hand (hard to tell, even with my old lady glasses), but I've gotten worse paper cuts this week, and nothing was broken. I got some free additional distressing of my new favorite holey jeans, and I think we probably burned more calories laughing than skating.  So it was all good.  And it really was a nice day.  

But they should make roller blading an Olympic sport, yes?  Who's with me?  I should Become a Fan of "I bet we can get 100,000 people to support inline skating as an Olympic sport."  Except that I hate that whole "Become a Fan" thing almost as much as I hate when my friends find bunnies or lost ducks on their imaginary FB farms, or think I'd like to know that they need a machine gun for their mafia game.  (After this I'ma go try to figure out how to hide all those game notifications on my FB page, so that I only see when my friends post important things, like how bored they are or that they're doing nothing.  Thanks guys, you know I love you no matter what I say about your FB habits.  P.S.  Just hid Farmville.  Praise Baby Jesus -- half my notifications went away.) 

So that's it -- Roller Blading Part Deux.  Here's a photo of Ena showing off the holes in HER jeans before we even start.  So she didn't need to fall on her butt to get more distressing.

Gotta go order P90X.  And more makeup -- watching pairs dancing and decided I'm under made-up.