Hi. My name is JoLynn and I walk into walls, trip over my own feet, bang my head on random objects that I’m fully aware are above me…you get the picture. Not a day goes by that at some point I don’t say the words, “well, that’s going to leave a mark.” Of course, the following day I find myself asking “what did I do to get that bruise?!” Remembering uttering those words, but not remembering why. For the most part, it’s a harmless bruise that doesn’t cause much angst but sometimes it’s got the angst of a tweenager who has had their cell phone taken away.
What are the 2 kinds of pain, you ask? The first kind of pain is the “wow, I did something” pain…sore or tight muscles, a little ache in the joints, etc. You know it’s there but you also know you aren’t “hurt.” The second kind? That’s the kind where the little people in your brain start setting off alarms. “You are hurt…injured…Danger Will Robinson!” Yeah, that happened…yesterday.
Allow me to set the scene in a vignette I had decided to call “Don’t be jealous of my amazing grace!”
It was a beautiful, sunny morning as we set out on our bikes. We’re meeting up with friends for a ride in a bit, a good day of sweat & fellowship! We crank it out up the David Avenue hill – no stopping either on the hill or needing to stop after to regain my soul. I’m in awe of how far I’ve come since this time last year. I’m also in awe of how many red lights I’m catching.
Within a few minutes I’ve lost sight of the Hubs ahead, having been stopped so many times. I start to see how long I can slowly ride up to the line, pushing the need to unclip from my pedals as late as possible. Most lights are pretty quick and I’m able to keep a small amount of momentum. Score for the solid core!
My mind wanders a bit as I pedal on. There’s a good little stretch with no lights so I push it hard to catch up. My energy level is great and I’m feeling strong. 3 weeks post race and I’m feeling ready to start a build for what may be an end of season race. I start to think about areas that need improvement in my training…red light…unclip…catch up with the Hubs…make a joke about catching every light on the way out. 2 more red lights…here comes the “kiss of death” moment…I think to myself “Wow, It’s been a year since I fell on my bike.”
Cue disaster in 3…2…1…unclip right foot…toe goes to ground…balance gets slightly tipped to the left (which is still clipped into the pedal). With all my might, I start pulling to the right as I yell “GOING…DOWN…DAMN IT!”
What happens next happens under the watchful eye of about 6 cars full of people and seems like it goes on for 20 minutes. I hear the Hubs say, “That’s the slowest fall I’ve ever seen.” I laugh…there’s no coming back from this, I’ve passed the tipping point. Here’s the conundrum: if I put enough pressure on my left foot to unclip I’ll go down a lot faster/harder; if I don’t push down to unclip, my whole left side is useless to me. My only viable option is to embrace the fall and the humiliation of it happening with witnesses.
As I try to pop back up as quickly as possible, I say quietly, “I think I may be hurt.” The car that was behind me to my left is completely thrown over the whole incident. I’m on my feet and he’s still staring…gaping, actually. I fear that I may have scarred him for life. I can see it now, 20 years down the road he’s seeing a therapist because of his deep-seated fear of bicycles. Or, maybe he’s in awe of how slowly I fell. I have, after all, just about been successful in disproving that whole Newton/gravity theory with my amazingly slow fall. Let’s see an apple pull off a slow fall from a tree! Anyway, I put on a brave face, give him a thumbs up, and get on my bike to pedal off. Only, something isn’t right. Somehow my saddle (aka bike seat) has gone askew.
The Hubs is now stopped on the other side of the intersection. He’s heard me say I may be hurt. All I can figure is, in my efforts to keep myself upright, I pulled so hard the saddle turned to the side. Sounds like my saddle must be loose, right? That would be a big NOPE! It took both of us pulling on it to get it back centered. I’m going to chalk that up to my incredible core strength. hahaha
Now time to assess my physical injuries. I can see a little blood and a whole lot of bike chain grease on the back of one calf but it doesn’t look like more than a couple dings. Boy, does it hurt though! I know nothing’s broken so we head on to meet our friends.
Fast forward to a few hours later..we roll in back home. The pain hasn’t been excruciating but it’s been ever-present. I wipe away the grease only to realize that the back of my calf is a series of large, swollen bruises with another deep bruise on my other calf starting to emerge.
HOW?! It wasn’t a massive wreck. It was a slow fall…a slow, apparently not-so graceful fall that has left me marked. I’m not sure if it’s a badge of honor or stupidity but I did learn one thing. Thinking (God forbid if I’d actually said it out loud) the words “I haven’t fallen” are tantamount to uttering the name “Macbeth” in a theater or saying “Bloody Mary” 3 times in a mirror…nothing good ever comes of it.
PS…I’m ok, Mom!…just a bit bruised.
an Unconventional Ironman 