The DAY I drafted the previous post I got into a bike accident. Apparently 1/2 marathon training isn't really what I needed this time around.
The whole story:
Saturday I had met Charlotte at a nearby bike festival. It was a small fest, but we caught up, got a hotdog, and some free schwag- including a Revolution beer. After parting ways, I biked on to meet some guy at the Randolph Street Fest a few miles south. We had our date (one of the worst on record) and I escaped back on my bike, planning to meet some friends back up north at the Wells Street Art Fest. My favorite local band, Tripping Billies was playing that night. My friends were being flakey/unresponsive (per usual) so mid-ride I decided that rather than biking directly to Wells, I'd go home for a bit and wait until I knew what time my friends would ready for Wells Fest.
The lessons in this story sure are coming to light.
I'm on my bike, at about Halsted and Armitage and suddenly crash into the pavement. First reaction is to get out of the street, as I'm clearly in the right lane of traffic. Once I'm on the sidewalk, I survey the situation. I can breath, am not gushing blood anywhere and nothing feels broken. A nearby car pulls over, asking, "Are you okay? Do you live nearby?" Yes, yes. A gay couple in their mid 40s walks over and stands with me for awhile. They readjust my tangled front wheel and slightly askew helmet. I'm pretty shaken up at this point, my knees ares trembling. The couple asks me, "what happened?" I have no idea...One of the guys looks around the street and spots a pretty sizable pot hole at the corner I'd just passed. "Huh," I think. I hadn't seen it.
I reaffirm to the couple that I'm fine, but would like to walk for a bit, since I'm not far from home. Both of my knees are bleeding slightly, but are mostly just full of street. My chin hurts, and my palms are a little scrapped up. But that's the jist of it. I keep thinking how much worse it could have been- I could have hit a car. I could have flown over the handlebars. My bike could have been run over. For a first bike accident after a year of urban-riding... it could have been so much worse.
After a few minutes of walking, I get back on and pedal back to my apartment. I open the door and collapse onto the floor. Immediately thereafter, Lisa calls me, wondering why I hadn't responded to her texts about Wells Fest. Poor Lisa, because I answer the phone and completely lose it. "I'm fine but could have died!" I cry. "So um yah... not going to Wells Fest."
I spend the rest of my Saturday night on the couch watching Orange is the New Black (so good, right?). At some point that night, I realize my left knee won't bend past 90 degrees. Well, dang.
|same day scrapes and bruises|
|anatomy is fascinating|
- The only thing I can control is myself. The decisions I make. How I handle the people and events around me. If I want to go see Tripping Billies, I'm will go see Tripping Billies.
- Good friends shouldn't be so flakey.