Recently a friend of mine took a fall and sprained both wrists. She was lamenting, among other things, her sudden inability to text and subsequent withdrawal symptoms thereof as well as the utterly stupid way it went down -- literally, she fell off the sidewalk. Can you imagine?
She received all sorts of unique ways to explain her wrapped wrists from, “Doing a video for Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Margaritaville’ - slipped on a pop top, blew out a flip flop” to telling people it was a long story that involved, “a jetski and a puppy.” Really anything is better than telling someone you fell off the sidewalk. . .
said I, until yesterday.
I was on my way to the gym for a work out. I ride my bike because I’m cool like that. I’ve got my gym bag hung on one shoulder pedaling at a moderate rate when I decide to take a shortcut onto the sidewalk that leads to the gym parking lot. I live with men, I know how to take shortcuts.
I smoothly guided the bike up onto the sidewalk, slowing down to be safe. I am always aware of my safety, that’s why I wear a helmet. In the unlikely event that I fall, I don’t want to risk a head injury.
As I slowly pedaled up the sidewalk, the gym bag fell from my shoulder, landing safely at my elbow, but jerking my hand off the handle bar causing a chain reaction whereby, my left hand over corrected and the bike veered off the sidewalk. The chain reaction continued with the bike tipping slowly sideways into a very thorny bougainvillea bush, followed by my very 50 year-old body crashing down on top of the bike and the bush. Did I mention the bush was thorny? Luckily no one was around to witness my epic loss of dignity so I picked myself up before anyone drove by and spotted me prone on the bush. Unfortunately, my left arm and leg were cut-up enough to produce prodigious streams of blood - good thing I wear a helmet and it was quickly apparent I had to get somewhere to clean it up and stop the bleeding. The closest place? The gym. . .full of people.
Where are a jetski and a puppy when you need one?