Back when I was around the ages of eight or so, I was running around with my brother and sister, playing tag indoors.
Bad idea, I know, but hindsight is 20/20, after all.
Anywho, my brother and sister ran upstairs, knowing fully well that I was the fastest and most agile runner on stairs in the entire household.
I quickly started up the stairs, only to notice that a coat that was hanging on the banister had fallen.
(You can probably guess what happens next.)
I instinctively turned my feet to pick up the coat while I was flying up the staircase, causing me to fall face-first onto the hard, wooden steps.
I ended up having a bloody nose for a while, and a large bruise, but the pain subdued eventually.
This is the part where the main character of the story would normally go slower up the stairs.
Well... I'm not normal.
I flew up the stairs twice as fast.
I never fell again.
Moral of the story:
You fell and broke a leg? So what, you've got younger siblings to catch!
Ah, when we were young.