Falling off my bike...

“Live every day like it is your last.

You never know. It just might be!”

- Anonymous

It was one of those Sunday mornings when Dave and I rode together. Dave is eighty, and we have been doing this as regularly as clockwork for more than a decade.

The timing of the rides depends on the season. In the winter, as it is now here in the desert, it is often quite chilly in the early mornings. For the uninitiated, the thought of the desert, even in the winter, being cold, is a bit alien. However, early morning temperatures this time of year can sometimes be freezing (32°- 0°C), leading to flexible start times - between 8:30 am and 10 am.  Even when it is not that cold, early temperatures regularly range from the low forties to mid-fifties (~5-12C). 

In the summer months, the start is several hours earlier (6:30 am - 7:30 am). Our goal is to get in the neighborhood of 15 miles on the rides.

When Dave was in his seventies, I was a spry fellow moving past my mid-sixties. In those days, this bike riding thing would be, you know, a thing. So, back then, he bought a new bicycle. It was fire engine red, and he loved it. But as time and gravity moved relentlessly forward, even the small uphill grades became challenging for him.

I was, on the other hand, an energetic mid-sixtyish, able to manage those grades much better due to my youthful legs…okay, NOT so youthful; I’m just saying it was easier for me than Dave.

Then came the next change for my riding partner. One day, Dave showed up with a new partner - an electric bicycle! By now, after several years and nearly 5,000 miles on the e-bike, things are different. Now, I’m the one who finds himself unable to keep up with his hill climbing.

The first fall…

One day before COVID, Dave and I were crossing a trail bridge on our usual Sunday morning ride; I cut the corner too sharply. My bike seat caught the edge of the bridge, and I went down like a pregnant elephant. 

“Dave,” I yelled somewhere between being tangled in my bicycle and floating mid-air. With a thud, I landed on my right side, my helmet lightly bouncing on the asphalt. 

That was then…

Last week, the morning was near freezing, so we waited until ten before heading out. I have a bicycle rack for my car, allowing us to vary our rides on any given morning. Because there are some hundred and thirty miles of asphalt walking/bicycling trails here in Tucson, we start the trail from various starting points for changes in scenery.

It is the typical small-talk ride until the hills. Without fail, by the time I’d get to the top, Dave would say something like, “Nice job. Keep at it, youngster. It will get easier.”

If we leave from home rather than ‘drive to ride,’ we return home the same way. It winds through quiet neighborhoods, and except for one moderately busy road to cross it is exceedingly safe.

I thought an oncoming car was going to stop to let us cross. It didn’t, and as I was leaning right to get off the bike, I gripped the front left brake. stopping the bike dead on its wheels. I, on the other hand, continued in forward/side motion. and fell off the bike.

You know how often people say things go into slow motion when they crash their car or fall? Not me! It was BRAKE and BANG!

After lying on the pavement for a few moments, my first thought was how lucky I was not to be moving at any speed. My second thought was wondering how much pain I would have once the shock wore off. Several folks stopped to see if I was all right.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

As it turned out, I was fine, with only a minor bang to my elbow.

Later, after taking some anti-inflammatory medication and icing my right elbow, I thought about how riding a bike is a little bit like life’s journey. It can only go forward…there is no reverse gear. You only know the moment you are in, because the past is unchangeable and the future? Well none of us knows anything about that.

It’s not falling down or failing that determines one’s trajectory but getting up and going again. The impact of a fall takes a little time to absorb…, a little time to check for damage,… a little time to get back up and go again.

Next Sunday morning? We’ll be back on the bikes; grateful the crash was not my last! Not that I anticipated another fall, but rather that this fall wasn't a terminal event.

- ted