So I have a story to tell you, and it's a rather embarrassing story (though not spectacularly so.) So I figure that it'd be alright to tell you, and I won't be treated to anything like "Remember when"s and "Boy that was funny"s, since none of you were actually there.
Yesterday, I fell off my bike.
Oh you roll your eyes now, but I assure you, it gets better. If it were just a matter of overbalancing, I would have dusted off my shoulders and been done with it.
No. Yesterday, I not only fell off of my bike but I totally ate it off of my bike. I had just dismounted, carried my bike down a flight of stairs, and was about to get back on the thing when I started it rolling, tried to get on, didn't find my footing on the pedal and the thing start to wobble and catch me and then dragged me down with it.
I did a boob plant (as opposed to a face plant) on the pavement, caught myself with my hands and somehow managed to scrape my left knee through my jeans (like a rug burn). On my right leg I have bruises on the front and back of my leg, because I think I got it caught between some part of the bike. My bruises hurt, my hands are scraped...
And I still cannot believe that I fell off of my bike. Nineteen, and I still can't stay on...
(And then a guy, who had just witnessed my embarrassing and rather painful moment, walked right by me without a glance. Apparently I not only looked stupid, I looked totally unworthy of a second glance.)
No comments:
Post a Comment