As I approach the end of my 37th year, I have had an epiphany. I finally realize my true calling. I exist to give people something to laugh at.

Don’t mistake this for a pity party. I’m pretty excited actually. I have slowly come to grips with my ability to make a fool out of myself.

My moment of clarity came 10 days ago when I fell down Federal Hill in Baltimore.

I didn’t actually fall as much as I careened down the top slope of the downtown landmark. Somehow, I got it in my head that I could race a friend to the bottom.

Luckily, she realized the folly of that idea and had a wonderful view from the top as I hurtled out of control to my fate.

Did I mention that all this took place during a department retreat for work and the friends witnessing this exhibition were my co-workers? I sure know how to spice up the day.

I knew I had made a mistake halfway down. Actually, I knew I made a mistake after a few steps when I sped up much faster than I intended, but I realized halfway down that I would pay a big price for this piece of bravado.

For those who don’t know, Federal Hill is high and steep. There are three levels with a concrete walking path separating them.

So as I ran down, all I could see was that walking path and imagine my face scraping across it. I had to toggle my mind between not falling until I got to the first flat area, but managing not to hit the concrete.

The problem was that I’m not the most graceful human being while walking on flat land. Imagine trying to time a landing correctly while running downhill at full speed in shoes with a well-worn sole. That doesn’t even mention worrying about my ankles (I have sprained both) and my bad knees.

I settled for a variation on a bellyflop. By taking advantage of my prodigious midsection, I avoided breaking a limb. I imagine I looked like an airplane landing without its wheels.

It wasn’t pretty.

I got to my feet pretty quickly, but couldn’t really assess the damage.

A friend asked if I was OK. I answered, “No.” When I rolled up my pants legs, I couldn’t believe there was no blood on either knee. I hit the ground hard and slid for a few feet.

I hadn’t even ripped a hole in my pants. After I started to catch my breath, I realized I had come out pretty lucky. I just stained my clothes pretty bad, although I realized later that a button was ripped from my shirt.

Oh, and I had some scratches on one forearm, I bruised both knees and had some soreness in my shoulders.

But I entertained my co-workers and provided many others with a great story.

It’s what I live for.