Normally I’m a stickler about typos, and do my best to make
sure than my blog doesn't have any (which I never find until I hit "Publish" and they stand up and wave at me like
those gray hairs on my head). But today you’re all going to have to cut me
some slack. I’m doing my best here, but
it’s a little tricky, given that my right hand looks like this:
And to answer your next question: yes, I am right
handed. Very, very right handed. Just taking that picture was a pain in the ass.
Let me explain how my weekend unfolded. Saturday morning I
did a 10 mile long run in preparation for the Brooklyn Half Marathon, the next
one on my schedule 3 weeks from now (with a 10K race squeezed in there the week
before it). My run was fine, nothing to write home (or blog) about. Except – that I came home with my knickers
completely in a twist. Because during my
non-blogworthy run, I realized that I was completely unprepared for triathlon
season.
My first triathlon of the season is on June 1st. It’s an Olympic distance one, which makes it
a 1 mile swim, a 26 mile bike ride and a 6.2 mile run. And actually, I should say that it’s my only
triathlon of the season. Due to some circumstances
that I am not discussing here, I have not been able to register for any other triathlons
so far this year. The situation will
hopefully correct itself soon, but until then I only have that one. And truth be told, I didn’t think I was going
to do it. It’s an extremely
difficult bike course, and an awful way to kick off race season. I’m only registered because I deferred last
year when I broke my foot. But as the
winter extended into spring this year, I didn’t stress out about not being able
to bike outside, because in the back of my mind I kind of knew that I wasn’t
going to do that race.
I also didn’t worry about not biking outside because I was
perfectly happy not to. It’s not that I
don’t like biking. It’s that I am a very
nervous biker. I’m not a horrible biker,
even when you throw in the fact that I am probably the worst triathlete on this
planet. I actually do quite well on
hills and will admit that I gain a little sick pleasure when I climb past my fellow
competitors who are barely moving and seem just about to go into cardiac
arrest. My problem is that I spend the
entire ride picturing my early death as I crash into a car or phone pole or
something and go flying ass over handlebars.
In triathlons, I always look at the run as a gift to myself for not
dying in the swim or bike portions.
It’s hard to motivate yourself to do something when you: a)
have no real reason to do it, and b) every time you even think about it you
need to change your pants. But I knew I
had to start riding outside. My
circumstances will hopefully change and I’ll be able to sign up for races
again, and I really need to ready.
Besides, every time that I’ve gone up against my demons, I’ve beaten the
crap out of them.
So, this morning I set out on my first real outdoor ride in
almost 2 years (a couple of weeks ago I rode for about 15 minutes just to make
sure that I could get in and out of my new clipless pedals, but riding around a
playground with your 6 year old son doesn’t really count as a training ride). I
set everything up to ease my mind: I talked my husband Wil into coming with me, I
mapped out a route on a traffic free bike path, and I even talked Wil into
driving us to the head of the path so that I wouldn’t crash into a car or telephone
pole on the way over to it.
Ok, you saw the picture at the top, so I can just skip to
the end here. I had to stop quickly so I
unclipped my left foot. But I’m right
handed. Very, very right handed. At the last second I had to swerve, pulled to
my dominant right side and lost my balance.
Now, it may not be too bad.
Per the x-rays, I “possibly” broke my wrist (for all my geeky brilliant science friends, the “scaphoid” bone is the one in question), but the x-rays
weren’t conclusive (there’s a line across the bone which the doc said should be
a fracture, but it’s not hurting in the right spot so she’s confused). So, I
have to wear that splint for a week and they’ll recheck it then. So, the good news is that it might just be a
sprain. The bad news is that if it’s
not, per that same doc the “scaphoid” bone is a bitch to heal.
I’ll give an update next week when I know more, but for now I’ll
leave you with some lessons learned:
- All those people who tell you not to put your hand out to catch yourself when you fall are absolutely right,
- A big husband and traffic free ride can’t guarantee you’ll stay on your bike,
- Crashing into a car or telephone pole and flying ass over handle bars is not the only way you can take a spill,
- Being ambidextrous is a good skill to have,
- It’s always good to face your demons, but they might end up beating the crap out of you,
- Sometimes you just have to live with a few typos.
No comments:
Post a Comment