I'm a klutz.
As a matter of fact I could be the poster girl for klutziness. My dad use to say I didn't walk so much as fall in a continual forward motion, which is actually a pretty accurate statement.
Worse than being a klutz, I'm a klutz who's always dreamed of being athletic. Dumb, very dumb...but a girl's gotta dream.
I've broken my arm four times rollerskating (a total of 8 actual breaks) but didn't have enough sense to stop skating until I broke my arm (in two places) AND my tailbone. Broken tailbones hurt...a lot...for a VERY long time.
I've broken fingers playing soft ball, jammed joints playing volleyball, put a hole in my leg riding a dirt bike, got a fractured foot from walking...that's right...WALKING....and more concussions, bumps, scrapes, and sprains than I can remember. I even broke my ankle walking down the aisle in an airplane (not completely my fault - there was a lot of turbulence!)
Last night was my latest mishap. I got off work at 2 am and decided to do my Ride to Cure training. I was a bit out of sorts...ticked off actually, due to my interaction with one of the most hostile and obscene 9-1-1 caller's I've ever had the displeasure of speaking with (which is a totally different story that I won't get into.)
Anyway, it was a beautiful night and I needed to ride, but it was a bit overcast and darker than usual so I decided instead of riding the streets of Kimmswick I would visit the parking lot of a local business and just do laps. And I did....LOTS of laps...5 miles worth of laps..and then I hit the road, wondering if I could ride all the way into town.
I did and it was a fabulous!
With the wind blowing in my face, music playing through my ear buds and nary a car in sight I was in heaven. Relaxed and at one with Bart the Bike we rode without a care in the world, the stress of the night melting away and the soothing feeling of peace and contentment finding its way into every fiber of my being. I didn't worry about speed, I didn't worry about distance...I just rode and enjoyed my bliss.
When my thoughts were interrupted by my ride app telling me I'd ridden 10 miles I pulled into a gas station and refilled my water bottle. I chatted a few moments with the clerk then headed back to my vacant parking lot. I knew I wasn't suppose to ride more than 10 miles but I didn't care. My foot felt fine, my breathing was fine, I wasn't tired and I was really enjoying myself...so I decided I'd ride another hour and see if I could hit 20 miles, and even as I set the goal I knew I could reach it with no problem...I was in "the zone" enjoying the best ride I've ever had.
I continued with my laps around the parking lot, moving at a fairly good pace, thinking about the celebratory post I would make on Facebook when I completed my 20 mile ride, then suddenly a opossum ran directly in front of my bike. I swerved, missing the animal but then over corrected and off the bike I flew, landing hard on the pavement.
I lay there for several minutes, catching my breath and doing a silent inventory. Conscious, alert, breathing a little rapid... but that's to be expected. Heart pounding, but no chest pain. Can I move my arms...yes...legs...yes. Any pain?..a little, but nothing horrible. I slowly sat up, feeling a bit shaky, but was soon on my feet. "Okay," I told myself, "walk it off."
After a couple minutes I decided I wasn't really hurt and could finish my ride, however when I tried to mount my bike a sharp, excruciating pain hit me in my rib area. I stood for a moment, catching my breath and decided perhaps I shouldn't finish my ride but go home and stand in a hot shower instead.
I tried to get on my bike once more to ride it across the street to my car but again the horrible pain hit, literally stealing my breath from me and leaving me physically shaking. I'd felt that same pain before when I cracked a rib a few years ago, and I knew in that moment I needed to go to the hospital.
Brandi and Elma had both sent me text less than 30 minutes earlier so after calling Brandi and getting no answer I called Elma and asked if she could take me to the hospital. Then I started the long (okay, it was actually pretty short, but it SEEMED long) walk with my bike back to my car.
While waiting for Elma I called my sleeping husband to tell him about my latest boo boo, assuring him I was fine but needed to get a couple of x-rays taken just to make sure nothing was broken. He wanted to come get me, but I told him Elma would be there any second, promised to keep him updated, and urged him to go back to sleep. Brandi also called me and offered to come to the hospital, but I knew hours of sitting in the hospital's chairs would kill her back.
So after Elma secured Bart on his bike rack we were off to the emergency room.
At the hospital the nurse looked at me like I was crazy when I told her how I'd been hurt (I think because it was the middle of the night) but once I explained my schedule and how I have to train whenever I can squeeze an hour or two in...and why I was training she understood.
This particular nurse had treated Brandi many times over the last three years and remembered her well...as did the doctor. They understood the importance of the Ride to Cure for me, they had lived the drama with us and had watched me sit next to her unconscious body so many times, they had been on the medical teams that worked fervently trying to bring her back from death's door...they understood when I started crying that it wasn't due to the pain from the injury, it was the pain I felt at the thought of not being able to ride in Brandi's honor, of not be able to raise the money to fund better treatments and a cure to save my daughter, of not being able to complete the challenge. They understood this was my way of fighting back.
When I returned from being x-rayed my husband was in the room waiting with Elma. He talked with me a few minutes and eventually brought up the subject of the Ride to Cure. He said he'd been thinking about it and he decided he wanted to ride in my place.
OH HELL NO!
I know he only wants to protect me from further injury, but truly the only way that's going to happen is if someone makes me a suit from bubble wrap and keeps me locked in a padded room. If you're a klutz you're going to get hurt at some point, that's just the way it works.
Besides, this is a me and Elma thing. It's something we've planned and worked on together. I know that sounds harsh, and it's not meant to be, but I kind of look at this whole experience...the planning, choosing bikes, training our asses off, bitching about sore muscles, my foot injury, Elma's sunburns, all the painful cortisone injections, putting off my foot surgery, trying to get the donations we need to actually qualify for the ride...I see ALL of it as an adventure that Elma and I will talk about for the rest of our lives.
So...
The x-rays came back and there are no broken bones. Cuts, abrasions, a sprained wrist and bruised ribs...but NO fractures which means....drum roll please....
I CAN STILL RIDE!!!
So I'm taking the rest of the week off training to let myself heal and get past the soreness, but come Monday morning I plan to be back on Bart and peddling my fanny off.
I've got training to do, we have a disease to cure, and I must still raise $525 in donations in the next 10 weeks to actually be able to participate in the Ride to Cure.
I'm not giving up and I hope you won't give up on me either. I can do this, I know I can. I always knew it was going to be hard but it the long run I know it's going to be worth every bit of pain I've felt along the way.
I'm fighting for my kid....for your kid...and for all the people fighting diabetes. I'll hurt for a little while...but their disease never goes away.
It's not over until the fat lady sings and I'm not evening humming yet.
***If you'd like to support my Ride to Cure by making a donation please click on the link below***
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