In January, driving down the road near our house, a car coming the other way lost control, skidded across two lanes, and crashed head first onto us. Miraculously, no one was injured -- although it took a month to fix our car, and the other guy was totaled.
In February, introducing my tennis-buddy to squash, he aims a hard forehand at the ball and connects with my left index finger. Four weeks on and it's still swollen.
In March, snow-tubing during a break at a conference in Utah, the guy in charge of shoving the tubes at the top of the hill shoved my group off before I could get into my tube. I descended the slope head first, looking up at the sky, bearing most of my weight on my left shoulder. Nothing broke.
It's been a funny kind of year that way.