After wiping out on my bicycle, I’m going to hold back on exercise for a week or two, or until the pain in my neck subsides.
I was cycling along Jericho Beach, one of the city’s most spectacular spots, when a large woolly terrier bounded from the off-leash section of the park, into the pedestrian and cycle path. To avoid the dog, I crunched down hard on my brakes and swerved to the right, hearing myself think, I’m going down. In those split seconds I recalled a passage from Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers about a co-pilot saying to the captain, “We’re going down,” seconds before the fateful airplane crash.
Falling a few feet off a bike is nothing like a plane crash, but it was only minutes earlier that I lay on a bench, reading Outliers, the sun warming my body. When I got back on my bike, I put on my helmet as I’m leery of racing cyclists who are sometimes reckless. Yep, there on the beach, on a beautiful sunny day, I was wearing my helmet. Good thing. I hit harder than I expected. The right-side of my leg, arm and head struck the dirt. My helmeted head.
From the ground, I saw the dog gallop off and its owner slunk away to his car after he inquired if I was OK. Hey, how could I be okay. I was down in the dirt, my bike on top of me.
Two days later, my neck hurts like hell. Run training is out this week, as well as the Run for the Cure on Sunday. To make up for it, I’ll get plenty of walking in, daily. And, I’ll have to be extra careful with the food intake.
But I’m ready for the next curve ball.