Most people I know seem to go about their days normally; effortlessly. Some have never broken a bone nor have they ever had to make a trip to the good ol’ Emergency Room.
Then there’s people like me.
At one point in my life the ER was a second home and I’ve been to more specialists than I care to name from podiatrists to orthopedists to immunologists to ophthalmologists. And if it’s a bone in my body, I’ve probably broken it twice. A light scar sits just above my left eyebrow from the time I was riding my heelies (do you remember those?!) and went flying when a pebble got stuck in the wheel. Face plant. I have a more noticeable scar on my right hand from when, just a few months ago, I was walking home from the nail salon, tripped, and wiped out.
The only thing I can think of that’s more embarrassing than wiping out while walking is wiping out while riding your bike. And yep – you guessed it! – that’s exactly what happened on this fabulous Saturday morning.
Clancy + messed up bike gears + parked car = disaster.
How many people do you know who have wiped out on their bike (in front of multiple neighbors) in the past week? What about month? Year? Decade? ONLY ME.
I really wish I could see what I looked like. The worst part was that I couldn’t even ride my bike home because it completely broke. I now sit here with a sore wrist, pounding knee, scraped up elbow, and broken bike. I guess I should cut my losses and be grateful that the bike was the only thing that broke (I think).
I don’t know whether I’m clumsy or just plain unlucky, but I’m willing to bet it’s a combination of both. Either way, this is just another classic event for a girl who lives one of those lives.