Grace (or lack thereof)

A few days ago, the state finally broke its streak of 90-degree days. The weekend was beautiful, and I was enjoying being outside again. The Trojan Woman and a friend decided it was a great day for a bike ride to get some ice cream. A new ice cream place had just opened up a couple miles down the road, so we set off for a leisurely ride. Traffic was a little heavier than I would have liked, but we made it safely and very much enjoyed our ice cream. By this time, I'm feeling all confident on my bike (it's got skinny wheels and it's about 30 years old, each of which make me a little nervous). We cross a diagonal railroad track and my front tire gets caught between the rail and the pavement. BAM- I go down hard, skidding a little on my face across the ashpault. It actually felt a little like slow-motion, though. I knew I was going down. I had time to think to myself, "Oh no. I'm falling over, and I'm not going to be able to recover." I tried to put out my arm to catch myself, but the slow motion moment had me moving too slowly and I hit the ground with my hand pinned under my body. Feeling slightly battered, I picked up the bike quickly and tried to regain my composure. To his credit, the friend didn't laugh at me. I almost wished he would have, though, as I would have felt less like an idiot. I was certainly laughing at myself. I also feel pretty certain that if he had fallen, I would have laughed. Of course, then I would have checked to make sure he was okay, and afterwards, I would have continued to laugh. But no, not him. Maybe the fall looked worse than it actually was, but he was genuinely concerned about me and saw no humor in the situation. Further kicking dirt on my pride, a car had come up behind us. The driver very carefully pulled up next to me and asked if I was okay. I appreciate the sentiment, but seriously, it just embarrassed me more.

Now it's been 10 days since the accident. I still bear the battle scars of bruised and scraped kneees, and I feel the occasional twinge of soreness in my hand. But overall, I have healed well, and my pride has recovered. My parents are coming for a visit this next weekend. Perhaps I'll even take them for ice cream, too, and revisit the spot of my graceful disaster. Perhaps we'll drive.