About five days ago, I was jogging with Ken and yipping away as I’m prone to do when someone has agreed to join me on a run, or a bike ride, or a Zumba class for that matter…anyway, one of my scintillating topics of conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey, you know what I just realized?
Ken: (silence due to concentration)
Me: I haven’t fallen down while running in a really long time. That’s a pretty big deal for me!
Ken: It’s true.
About four days ago, I fell over on my bike while I was cycling to work with my laptop on my back. Famous last words, right? There I was on the sidewalk, peddling away and feeling the biking spirit that only comes with commuting in a green way and getting a nice cycler’s-high, and with one wrong flick of my handlebars, my tire went into a crack and my bike crashed over.*
My left arm took the brunt of the fall, scraping into the road and getting covered in asphalt. I somehow also managed to bruise my right palm, and have some road burn on both of my elbows.
I lay in shock for a half second before I knew I had to get out of the street, but as I tried to weasel out from under myself, I realized why I sincerely hate my peddles – they are those cagey ones some my feet look like tiny birds who want to fly away but cannot, and that means that when you tip over and your leg is crushed under your frame, you cannot get your feet out and under you again.
Like a pathetic attempt at doing “the worm” dance move, I wiggled myself as far onto the sidewalk as I could, when some nice Orange County man drove by and yelled something totally helpful out of the window of his classy four-door luxury sedan:
“You really should be more careful!”
No. Really? Oh Orange County. I tried not to think about how if you fall off of your bike in Oregon you are instantly surrounded by people who would like to help you get back up and dust you off, and who will probably also offer you cookies and tea and a nice place to sit until you are not feeling shaky from the fall.
Once untangled from my bike, I looked back down the road towards my house and knew I was closer to work. So I carefully and timidly peddled to the office, got inside, and whipped out my laptop without even waiting to get to my desk or wipe off my arms and attend to my wounds. The laptop turned out to be better than fine (thank God, the Easter Bunny, and any other Powers That Be) and I decided I should probably back up before I try biking to work again.
I’ve been a little put off from riding since this incident. So it’s back to driving to work for me, and running just indeed.
* Sorry you had to find out this way Mom and Dad!