Yesterday morning, I donned my helmet—definitely NOT a good look for me, but I’m willing to make some concessions for safety’s sake—and set off with Bill on a new route. Edmond is currently working hard to become bicycle-friendly, but this particular route is not quite there yet. Part of it involves navigating narrow sidewalks and busy streets in order to reach a beautiful hiking/biking trail south of town. I was VERY cautious along the treacherous stretch and reached the trail intact.
You guessed it. Just when I thought the sailing was smooth, I took a tumble. I wasn’t being careless or dare-devilish. An innocent—and courteous, I might add— detour around two walkers resulted in my front tire becoming wedged between the grass and asphalt. Down I came, and, of course, on the asphalt side, not the grass side.
As a result, I have bruises that resemble ripe plums and strawberry abrasions on my calf and elbow. Those boo-boos joined with the chigger bites I acquired on a “healthy” hike the day before. The bites are the size and color of a cherry tomato. My body has become a metaphorical fruit salad, another not-so-good look for me. In the middle of summer, I’m wearing long pants and long sleeves when I venture out. I would stay home, but I have to go to CVS for antibiotic ointment and anti-itch cream.
I know what you’re thinking, but before you even suggest it, let me make this categorically clear: I’m NOT getting one of those adult tricycles. That’s not a good look for me, either.
|I thought these boo-boos would impress grandson Brooks...
|but he was more concerned with what happened to my bike.