I think that life is an intelligence test, and that I am failing. I just signed
up for a two-day women's cycling clinic in San Francisco. Two former
professional and women's national team cyclists will be our instructors, and
they're going to teach us important skills, like how to handle being bumped,
and what to do when your wheels hit, something I sure wish I knew two months
ago. Who wouldn't want to sign up for this, I wonder. Sounds like it'll be a
riot. This is the party to crash.
Actually, this was a tough decision to make, signing up for this, considering
I'm coming back from a pretty awful injury and all. But I can lift my arm over
my head now, and almost swim the freestyle, so I'm making progress.
Brooke Kuhn, the clinic's organizer, helped coax me into the program. "Look at
it this way," she said. "You've got the big crash out of the way. Your odds
look good."
She said the worst thing that could happen would be a couple of scrapes. Well,
heck. A couple of scrapes, at the most all those can do is give you some cool
looking scars, which is just what I need to add to my collection. Better than a
tattoo, I tell you, with a much better story.
She said that she hopes that I find it comforting that we will practice many
drills that will simulate what caused my accident. I don't know that I find
this particularly comforting, actually, and I'm wondering if she's failing
life's intelligence worse than I am, but I wrote out the check anyway, figuring
that might be the hardest part. Then actually going to the clinic, that might
be difficult. I figure if I just do what they tell me to do, I'll be fine.
My physical therapist says to go for it, that this will aid in my mental
recovery. I think this is the right step. I can tell you that I've been riding
for a week now, and although the first day was shaky, I actually ride more
aggressively now and feel tons more relaxed, because what's the point in
freaking out. You fall down, you break some bones, and then you heal. Just wear
a helmet and make sure you have insurance, big deal.
Anyway, Mom, if you're reading this, I bet Gramma is looking down on all this
and is laughing her head off, feeling vindicated, like, "Now my kid knows what
she put ME through, racing those crazy cars."
Katie Kelly
|