Falling Off (again)

Sadly, I have waved goodbye to my lovely martial arts beginners' class for wannabe fitness fanatics! I say "sadly" because I really wanted to throw myself into this thing, really wanted to commit but the pain in my ribs as a result of a really scary fall off my mountain bike promptly stopped any further action for me at the local Dojo. By the time my ribs had healed, the moment of glory, the appeal, the novelty had seriously worn off - for blocking and kicking, that is.

The usual Saturday bike ride was going really well (I thought) and, as I looked forward to rewarding myself after huffing up a fairly gentle upward gradient by freewheeling beautifully down the other side of the equally fairly tame downhill sweep, allowing the early morning breeze to blow my hair, to cool my flushed cheeks, I realised that the road was marginally more level (stable) if I rode along the grassy middle. Changing lanes, as it were, at over 27kms an hour on that glorious bit of rocky, teeth rattling, down-straight looked easy enough and I aimed for the grassy middle patch which would offer a bit of a smoother ride. Oh, disaster! My front wheel bit into a sneaky dump of deep sand lurking on one side of the grassy bank, bringing my heretofor carefree forward momentum to a savage and sudden fullstop! Imagine - full throttle, sudden stop, 180 degree spin of the handlebars whilst simultaneously meeting the ground, chest first, said handlebar coming to rest directly between soft tissue and ribcage, as bike and biker airborne for a moment, before coming to a skidding, sliding landing onto hard ground on the far side of the road just next to a stately line of tall sugar cane awaiting harvest. Dramatic was that ending to say the least but, as one who has survived a childhood of climbing up everything from cupboards to very tall trees and falling regularly, I had to concede that never before had I been so totally "winded". I felt like a lung had collapsed but managed to howl my breath back, slowly and painfully (and loudly). Husband came sweeping back to separate me from my bike which had wrapped itself around me like a pair of ominous metal arms and whilst agonisingly gathering my breath back, I managed to observe a little village just ahead of us, and wondered aloud where all the inhabitants could be, small children and chickens running about were a common sight in villages such as this. I had expected a roadside of shocked bystanders, viewing the crash site with grave interest, but Husband dryly opined that they had surely all run away in the opposite direction, due to the noise I had been making!

Suffice it to say that after a good few painkillers, anti-inflammatories and finally a Voltaren injection, several weeks had to pass before I could face getting back onto my bike again, never mind air kicking and punching at my reflection in the wall sized mirror at the martial arts dojo! So I was never destined to be a ninja but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try some nice Korean or Laotian food recipes!