falling with grace
i hate falling, though it’s an inevitable part of life when you commute via bike ~90% of the year, even in times of inclimate weather. regardless, falling off your bike, tripping on your own feet, missing a step, all seem like silly, preventable acts to me. in my own little world, they suggest elements of defeat. i recognize that to keep some perspective and humility, everyone should be knocked on their ass every once in awhile. but it doesn’t mean i have to like it.
i’m a healthy, active adult, i should have complete control over my motor skills. so what generally happens when i do take a tumble? i get mad. quite literally. i curse, i yell, i have been known to kick my bike—i pretty much throw a tantrum. was i ever conscious of this display? nope. not until the boy pointed it out not too long ago. he said my behavior is actually alarming and scary. and when i thought about it, i guess my reactions are a little over the top and uncalled for. to that end, after naz’s warranted mocking, i started laughing at myself.
so last night, when i was booking home from an excellent night of sewing at cinnamon’s house, nearing completion on my second skirt, feeling pretty good about my accomplishments, my head was elsewhere when suddenly my bike flew out from underneath me. i slipped a bit over a wet patch/gravel/who knows, lost partial control, regained it, overcompensated, then ended up sliding on the pavement on my chest after landing badly on my left arm. my bike, tossed off to the side, leaning against an old, beat-up truck, upside down.
i got up, shook it off, looked at my bike that seemed fine despite a twisted brake lever, and then realized my arm was in pain, though movable. i dug for my phone to let naz know that i fell off my bike (i did not state “i had a bike accident“—that phrasing has a more negative connotation for me), and since i was so close to home, he met me halfway.
when he met up with me, he asked how it happened. what did i slip on? was it a pothole? was there ice? and honestly, i couldn’t remember. i believe it was the combination of my speed, some loose gravel and the wet road that caused the spill. and when he asked how i fell, that, too, eluded me. i know i slid on my chest for a bit, but i don’t remember hitting my arm with any impact though the pain suggested otherwise. i do know i didn’t hit my head, which is always a good thing. how i clipped out of my pedals, no clue. falling off a bike always happens literally in milliseconds, it’s difficult to recount the chronology of events.
naz then asked if i got mad. and looking back, i didn’t. in fact, i acknowledged the fact that i hadn’t fallen off my bike in a while, so i was probably overdue. and then i giggled, though i worried about the pain in my arm. figuring nothing was broken since i could still move it, my biggest concern was whether or not i’d have enough mobility in my hand to finish my skirt. obviously, i can still type, so sewing by hand shouldn’t be too difficult. glad to see my priorities haven’t gone out of whack.