Better Luck Next Time?

 Well, y’all know I like to do it up big. Today, some Philly residents were able to witness quite a spectacular bicycle crash (just me splayed out in the center of the road as I attempted to make a left turn). My wheel found a nice groove that decided to grab it. I went over the handlebars onto my left shoulder. The orthopedist gave me a very medical diagnosis: you smashed the hell out of your shoulder. You’re off the bike trip today.

Now I could choose to focus on the wreck, or the road conditions, or what I did or didn’t do right. But I choose to focus on the astounding response of witnesses. A fireman who pulled over to check if I needed medical response, but stood there until I had a plan. A nice, sweet woman who was driving behind me, who wanted to see if I needed a bandaid for my knee scrape. The nice lady who was passing by that helped get my bike out of the road. And the absolutely sweetest young cyclist, Miles, who immediately pulled over, helped get the bike to a safe location, who tied my mask on for me so I could Uber, who stood with me until Uber van arrived, offered to store the bike, loaded all my gear into the van, and provided emotional and real support. And then the Uber driver who unloaded my stuff and bike. The hotel staff who locked my bike to their racks, checked to find me a nearby orthopedic/sports med urgent care clinic. And of course the staff at the clinic that were supportive and competent. And to the Uber drivers that had to fasten my seatbelts for me.

And how could I leave out the person who was three hours away, who had to drop everything to come to my hotel to take care of, now, everything that is to come for the trip home and beyond— DL Swain.

Yes, it’s a corker, but I am ALIVE. 

Still, “best day of my life.” (Vicodin probably helps the outlook.)