Three Seconds to Death

It's starting to snow up here in Estes Park. They say we'll get a good amount and that the next few days are going to freeeeeeeeezing.
I used to love the cold. I felt invigorated by those bracing winds. Safely coccooned within my fleece inner lining and nylon shell, with gloves, thick socks and boots, hat and scarf swathed about my face, what had I to fear? Hah, hah, hah, wind!
Two years ago, with this bravura and my usual bundling-up, I headed for a brisk (that's an understatement since the temperature hovered around zero degrees) walk around Lake Estes.
It's one of my favorite walks: a four mile jaunt on paved trail with spectacular views of the surrounding mountains, rock formations, ponderosa trees, icy lake, golf course and animals.
Only a thin slice of my face actually encountered the deadly cold, and that was mostly shielded by my sunglasses.
Large patches of ice covered the sidewalk and I took care to avoid them as best I could.
I passed a woman and her dog --- perhaps the only other brave souls to venture out that morning ---and continued on my way.
When I marched under the shade of a stand of bare cottonwood trees, my sunglasses failed to distinguish the slight difference in hue between dry sidewalk and ice-covered sidewalk. And that's when my feet came into contact with "the spot."
Most accidents happen very quickly. That's why they can be so deadly; there's very little time to react.
Paradoxically, real-time seems to disappear and time seems to slow to a tortoise's crawl so that every excruciating detail of the fall can be observed, analyzed, even prayed about.
As my feet zipped forward and my body flew backward, here are some of the amazing number of thoughts and prayers the neural connections in my brain fired out:
Oh, my gosh, I can't believe this is happening!
Both my feet! At the same time!
Ooo, this is going to hurt.
I didn't even see that patch of ice
I'm all alone out here.
I even forgot my whistle. Dummy!
What if I knock myself out?
I might freeze before someone finds me.
Poor Bruce, poor family.
What if I break my back or my neck?
Oh Lord, help!

As soon as my back connected with the pavement, real-time resumed.
I landed with a thump, but not a hard thump, unbelievably. It felt almost as if I'd fallen on a pile of leaves. I sat up, realized that I was completely unhurt, then jump back to my feet.
I dusted the ice off my back and fanny and kept walking.
The entire incident took perhaps three seconds.

Three seconds. What normally happens in our brains in three seconds? Three seconds in the grocery store? Three seconds in the classroom? But three seconds of flying through the air, feeling death imminent?

The Lord has placed in our amazing brains the ability to "slow down" time in order to analyze and make some quick adjustments for survival. I've experienced other "near misses" and each time, this phenomenon of the perception of time being slowed has kicked in and given me opportunity to adjust, mentally and physically.

What's your "three-second" crisis? Have you experienced the same slow motion phenomenon?

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well." (Psalm 139: 14)