Goodbye Weekend Plans, Hello Pain

Get some exercise, they said.

It will be fun, they said.

So I’m sitting in Starbucks when I come across an inspirational TED talk that one of my friends from college sent me, feeling the motivation sink in to make the changes to my life that I want and need. After being told that the only thing holding me back from what I want is my own will and discipline to achieve, I left the coffee shop invigorated--going home to make a nice healthy vegetable stir fry with my sights set on taking a leisurely bike ride around the neighborhood later for some exercise. Sydney’s going to get fit y’all.

I’m lucky that the neighborhood I live in in Long Beach is really safe and shady, making for a beautiful late evening ride through the welcoming community. So I’m going up and down streets on my dad’s ritzy fancy bike, butt raised in the air and head down trying to see how fast I can come down into this nicely little newly paved cul-de-sac. But when I go to start peddling around the corner my foot slips and, in combination with the gravelly precarious road, I go flying towards the pavement--arms raised to protect my face. I land hard, skid, as my bike falls over the right side of my body.

Basically fully beaten/bruised right side

Now I don’t really get hurt very often, especially not since I was a kid and could just cry and give up on life, someone whose responsibility it was to take care of me as I wallowed in my pain. So I just kind of sat there in shock, repeatedly feeling my face for any cuts or concussions, paranoid that I’ve knocked some teeth out (if you know me, you know this is high on the list of fears). Luckily for me several people from the cul-de-sac are out and about walking around so they come running to make sure I’m conscious and don’t have any broken bones. One surfer bum looking guy goes into his house and comes back with wet washcloths and Hydrogen Peroxide (something which I couldn’t remember the last time I had used it on a cut). Afraid to move, and still in shock, I start wiping away the blood that’s dripping from right forearm/elbow and gashes running up and down my left leg in various areas in the middle of the street.

When I finally gain a little bit more composure the bystanders who rushed to my aid usher me into a lawn chair in their driveway where they give me fresh towels and help me to pour the HP on my wounds which hurt like a massive bitch burning deep into my skin. Pushing back tears, the shock really began to take hold with a bout of immobilizing nausea. I never really believed shock was a real thing until this accident, but it really is scary how much the emotional affects the physical. They urged me to keep sipping on the cold water bottle they had brought out for me and told me to relax. There was no rush to get up or move faster than I needed to—they would drive me home when I was ready. Over and over again I told them how much I appreciated their help, to which they replied “No problem at all sweetie, you just pay it forward next time.” Really caring people rushing to my aid.

Not bending this baby all weekend.

Loading my bike into their big SUV, I sat back and drunk my water—trying not to look at the first layer of skin around my elbow that seemed to have been shaved off in my fall. After wrapping my elbow up in a loose fitting gauze and helping me to gather my things, I hobbled to the car and they drove me home. Walking the bike up to the condo, I was happy to see the damage to the bike was minimal—cuts can scab and heal, but I cannot afford to replace that bike. When I got back Dawn was already home, so we assessed my wounds further as I heavily self-medicated and she went to Redbox to get some movies and snacks for our pity-party.

Less than 24 hours later and I’m not going anywhere. The pain is even worse than it was yesterday and I hope that by the end of this weekend I’ll have some functioning scabs going so I can actually wear some clothing and it won’t stick to the open wounds. Don’t know if this is a message from the fat Gods to just give into my fate and die alone, but I’m laying low and hoping none of these wounds scar too bad.

Thank God I DVR’d all those House Hunter International episodes so I can pretend I'm leaving the couch this weekend.