Wipe-out

Took my first fall on my bike tonight on the way home from work. Nothin' like wiping out at 10 p.m., in the dark, still a 25 minute ride from home, already exhausted from working a double. I'll spare you the sight of my road rash-ed elbow under the band-aids. Fortunately, all the other damaged places were covered by clothing, so everything else--my knee, hip, and ribs--is just swollen and bruised, not bloody. I have yet to get all the gravel out of my elbow, though.

I was getting too brave. I hit the railroad tracks on 8th St. a little too fast and a little too parallel. The bike went down on its side (haven't assessed the damage to Izzy [my bike] just yet) and we skidded a bit before I jumped to my feet, scrambled together all the odds and ends that had been in my bike basket, and dragged Izzy to the side of the road.

But I wussed out. At first I thought I'd be tough, get up, put the chain and my basket back on my bike, and keep going. When I realized I was beginning to drip (sorry--"eeewww," I know) on my favorite shirt, I stopped at my friend Katie's house a few blocks away to clean up. Then, as the adrenaline began to wear off and my elbow started stinging and my knee started swelling, I called my friend Eric for a ride home. I have to admit, as much as riding another four miles would have sucked, I wish I'd been tougher.

Everything hurts. But at least there weren't any cars coming.