Broken Wings

Yup, life can change in a heart beat.

I was super excited Sunday morning getting ready for my long roady. Mindy and I were going to do a 90km loop.

Even soaked the steel cut oats in water overnight.

It had rained in the night. I set the odometer to 0 and clipped in with a smile on my face.

Was pretty stoked to be heading out with my new back wheel. I’d broken a few spokes and had a loaner on for a while. Yesterday I managed the newbie. Wow I had so much more power.

I took to the streets with some speed. But when I went to cross the train tracks somehow, my back end fishtailed out and I went down hard. Very hard. Hip, shoulder, then head.

I knew it was bad. I had to gasp for air.

Seconds passed and I was able to move my weight to my right side off my hip. I could see cars driving by.

Then I heard someone come up behind me.

“Are you OK? Can you get up.”

“No, I replied. I can’t move.”

In fits of calmness I asked for help. My phone. Somewhere behind me. He called 911. I called my son.

“Kyle, I went down really hard off my bike. I need you to come and get my bike for me – NOW.”

I was a block away from meeting Mindy. So I asked a fellow cyclists to hook up for me.

At this point many people were stopping to put blankets on me and ask if they could help.

That dang pavement is hard!

At one point while waiting for the ambulance I had my son sit behind me to prop me up.

I’d known child birth. Non-medicated. The pain was right up there. I knew I’d done something bad to my pelvis.

The nurse who took to my care remained positive.

“Probably a bad tear.”

I imagined it. My cleat. The release.

But as I rolled over to x-ray my body went into shock. I’d known the feeling from a previous bike accident. Same hip. Same side. But in the past case – a lot more road rash.

She convinced me when I got out of x-ray to take the shot of morphine.

Then she told me it looked like I had a couple fractures.

We talked a lot about cycling. Riding in a pack. She’s signed up to do the 140km Ryder Hesjedal’s Tour de Victoria. Nervous about riding in the packs.

I gave her my insights. “You’re gonna love it!”

The day wore on and the pain subsided. I was later told I fractured my left superior and inferior pubic ramus (pelvis) and the distal end of my clavicle in my left shoulder.

Awakening to the realization I’m going to need a lot of healing, one by one I alerted family, friends and co-workers.

I’m receiving amazing care.

Yesterday I was able to stand and take a few baby steps. I’m now able to pivot myself to the port-pottie even!

But when I woke up yesterday morning in a hospital bed, not even 24 hours later I thought it was all a bad dream.

Truth be known I shed a few.

The day drew on and I sat back to do my work as best I could.

Gotta keep the sanity.

Friends and even my boss came in for hugs.
The day’s recital went like this:

“I’m so grateful I didn’t break my head. I don’t need surgery and yes – I will heal!”

It’s temporary.

The broken wings.

Born Alone Die Alone

Told this to my son recently.

He’s thinking about grooving away from the roots. So he should. But tagging along with the girlfriend. I told him to live his life as he should. Not to get wrapped up. Dependency won’t get you independence.

No matter. He’ll do what he wants anyway.

This morning I wake up alone and sing to myself, “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me!”

Yup, I’d spent the last year thinking I was what I am today so I was relieved to realize I didn’t really gain a year.

Off I tootled for my pre-dawn roll (bike ride).

Waffled at the roll-out, whether I was going to ride with the B’s or the C’s. Technically I’m a B- so I ended up between - ironically.

I couldn’t quite catch the pack of B’s in my hesitation and then I hit the red light.

As I rolled through the country roads catching glimpses of the dew shining in the early morning light I thought to myself, perfect way to start the birthday.

You’re born alone. You die alone.

Nothing wrong with being alone.

Why Ride a Bike

Foolishly I bought another book. Not like I really needed it. But the title intrigued me. Ride Your Way Lean. The Ultimate Plan for Burning Fat and Getting Fit on a Bike, by Selene Yeager (and the Editors of Bicycling).

True enough. I wanna be lean.

Fact. I love to ride a bike.

Fiction. I’m in good shape!

Some of the older dudes that I ride with in the early mornings preach it pretty good. The lighter you are on the bike, the better you’ll be.

Early on in the year I gave up wearing my Lantern Rouge (it's red) jacket. Not because I’d moved out of last place.

Because the zipper kept splitting on me.

The pounds had piled up fast. By the time I was brave enough to look in the mirror (naked) I had two spare tires resting on each hip. Wahhhhhhh!

The book arrived in the mail. On the outside the package read something like, “Open Immediately!”

Eventually I did. In typical Jane fashion I opened up to skim the first few pages and chapters.

But instead of flipping though, I found myself zooming in and reading here and there. Learning things I thought I already knew.

Later in the evening I’m into the boob tube and decide to catch a few pages during commercials.

Holy cow. I’m reinventing the script.

I’ve always been a cyclist. Lived years without a car. Back in the day. Now I drive. Ridiculously short distances in a vehicle.

I was pleasantly surprised to read into the depths the reminders of the sunshine you bring into a room when you ride a bike.

Really got me thinking.

Why I need to ride a bike… more often.

A Weekend Roundup

Only one thing I look forward to on the weekends.

That’s going for a long bike ride.

Love the "Let's Bike!" part!

Most favourite part? Not having to rush home to change, shower, eat and run out the door again for - whatever.

The heart, the mind and the body are tuned and tired. Complete with a holding tank full of fresh, clean air.

Yesterday I travelled new roads. Traversed lagoons, seaside scapes -  majestic mountain ranges wavered in the background. I rolled up staunch steep hills, grunting and groaning with each turn of the pedal - an awakening of the senses.

Passing forests, bearded with grafts of green mosses. Streams running through. Rabbits chasing birds. Songs echoing the wavering filters of the leaves of changing tree types.

Some arbutus for sure. Firs, then cedars. Horses clopping along roadside. Sheep gathered in fields. Rolling farmlands. Here, there and then again.

Curbside harvests available for purchase. Locally grown pork, chicken and beef even. Pottery artists. Countryside lanes. Classic cars meandering with their Sunday family drivers.

No one is in a rush.

The odd pack of cyclists wave me by. I pedal on.

Doesn’t matter about the time. I have it.

For that, my health, my family and the environment I live in - I am so grateful.