I crash, therefore I am.

I rarely crash.  I tend to ride within my limits and that gets me down the trail pretty rapidly, at least quick enough to be a respected trail riders among my peers.  But every now and then stuff happens.  Memorial Day was an example of that.

Just one of those things, really...never saw it coming and it had nothing to do with skill or speed or poor line choice or handling mistakes or whatever.  Act of God type of 'stuff' and WHAM!...all crumpled and dirty, wondering what happened.

Sigh.

"When pigs fly, you really can't blame them if they don't stay up there too long."
-  Unknown

The real impact was divided between my left shoulder, neck/head, and hydration pack.  Of course, my landing zone was the only section of rocks along this entire 6 mile trail, so I chose poorly.  I figured this was broken collarbone zone, but it seemed not to be...had no feelings of that kind of damage during inventory.  So FFW, who had his own OTB earlier, but was saved from larger damage by a bit of shrubbery, and I finished the ride a bit worse for the wear, but not in any real pain.

But things like this tend to dent us a bit.

"What does not kill me makes me sore, scarred, creaky, and arthritic."
- grannygear

Notice 'stronger' is not an option.  They lied about that part.  So now I am working my way back toward some sense of normalcy as I try and keep in shape with road rides and hill repeats...no dirt.  grannygear is sad.

But grannygear is also smart enough to know that angels carried him over the portals of greater destruction because this could have been a lot worse, so I will take it as best I can and move on.

The limps, scars, twinges, impingements, rusty hinges, swellings, bumps, lists to port, pins, bolts, screws, sutures, staples, bursitis, arthritis, and the heartbreak of psoriasis...all these we collect with great effort, expense, and diligence as we fight against time and gravity...and lose on both accounts.

“The entropy of the universe tends to a maximum.”


Oh yeah...that is me all over.  What may begin as a 'perfectly' designed human machine that we enjoy in our youth, all well 'ordered' and all, falls to disorder over time, self inflicted damage not withstanding.  Lately I am becoming the poster boy for entropy.  My right knee...martial arts class.  Lower back...trail maintenance work.  Left wrist...well, too many falls to remember over the years capped by the last crash a couple of years ago.  Now my left shoulder.  Entropy, entropy, entropy, as Gomer Pyle used to say.


Still, I would not have it any other way, at least no one that is a viable option, I mean I rather would not ever grow old and get broken, but that is not a box to get checked off, at least not in this lifetime.  But to live is to risk, is it not?  And each time I suit up, click in, and roll out I risk things a bit.


And this rolling collection of aches and pains, this poster child of entropy in lycra, this broken down old example of flying pigs and the immutable laws of the universe misses the simple thing that is a bicycle being pedaled across the dirt and all that has meant to him all these years.


We will be back, God willing, to risk it a bit more.

"Well, this will take a while to fix."