“It’s not the falling off that hurts,
it’s the landing.”

James Carson

Wednesday turned out to be a really busy day, super productive and then loaded with unnecessary drama at the end.

“Great,” I said to myself when I had finished all my errands, “now I have time to fit in a relaxing 40-minute bike ride before heading over to the Methodist Church to speak.”

So to set the next part – the dramatic bit – in context I spent part of the early afternoon out at Sammy Gregg’s house talking bike. It was Sammy who trusted me with his amazing bicycle at the beginning of the summer. I was telling him how much I love the bike and how I am taking such good care of it.

I was exactly two miles into my route, somewhere around 4:30, when I came down River Road, clocking around 23-mph under the bridge. I know every pothole on this route and I swear the one my front wheel hit is new from the construction. It absolutely should have been marked and I will likely bring this up with the town later. All I know is that it was not marked and it turned my wheel instantly and I went down.

Not just down but down hard. Down over the handlebars. When I hit the road the bike then flew over me and I met it again when we both bounced and slid into the pile of broken rocks and debris alongside the road. It happened so fast I barely processed anything other than the sense that “this is bad…” until I realized it was over.

So I lay still, feeling every part of my body to assess damage. Lots of blood. Lots of bruising. Many lacerations. Definitely a sprained wrist – hopefully not broken. So much pain down my right leg and my left arm… shoulder… back… ribs.

My phone had been flung almost all the way to the river! My Apple-watch was knocked off when my left arm scraped along the road surface. Strangely, even though my watch makes a loud noise and shouts, “it appears you have taken a hard fall” when I brush my teeth, or stub my toe, it did no such thing in response to a devastating crash!

The bike appears to be damaged. Scraped up, out of alignment, brakes jammed up… and worst of all the carbon frame looks to be cracked. Skin grows back, bruises heal, sprains eventually right themselves… but damaged carbon? Not so good.

What I am most upset about is that nobody has this on film! I have to say that 23 mph is extremely fast and my wreck was all kinds of spectacular. I would have given anything to be able to share it with you all, frame by frame (In case you’re wondering, no there will not be any reenactment for video).

Eventually I recovered enough to walk my bicycle home. Well, limp it home. Then I let a long hot shower minister to my wounds. Soap, by the way, is not a great combination with fresh road-rash!

And then, walking in just on time, I hobbled over to the Methodist Church to eat some most excellent barbecue and talk with a handful of the guys who are interested in getting something going in terms of men’s ministry.

I usually quote scripture in these posts. But right here I think Chumbawamba will do nicely:

I get knocked down, But I get up again – You’re never gonna keep me down.
I get knocked down, But I get up again – You’re never gonna keep me down…

Chumbawamba