The Harder They Fall

Sigh. So it figures that the first time I try an ambitious exercise after hurting my back and shoulder – as ambitious as a leisurely bike ride with Kyle – I fall and jack up the whole thing.

I was more worried about Kyle than myself, of course, and that is what I told him when he helped me up off the ground.

“You should have been paying attention, Mommy,” he scolded. “Why weren’t you looking?”

You would have done the same thing. Behind me, and to the left, as we were coasting down a hill on a quiet side street in my neighborhood, I heard a shuffling crash. Since Kyle is not very confident riding his bike without training wheels yet, I instinctively jerked my head back to look at him, somehow tangling my own self up in a frenzy of wheels, yoga pants, and skinned palms. I ended up in a twisted pile in the middle of the street with my left leg twisted behind me and caught between the front wheel and the handlebars.

Little Superman that he is, Kyle ran over and untangled me, grunting as he lifted my bike frame into the air to free my leg. I straightened up slowly, like the Swamp Thing climbing out of the fen, and learned that falling from 4 feet in the air to the pavement at almost 40 is a very dangerous thing.

I’ll be on the couch nursing a Corona if you need me.