I Did It!

I rode my bike all the way to the Post Office and back!  That has been my goal for years because, as I have mentioned before, I love Post Offices!

However, and this is a big however, I did fall, yet again.

Bikers have to abide by rules of the road, I am told, so at a crosswalk, I had to stop, which means I have to get off my bike, because the seat is TOO HIGH and I can't quite get enough of my foot on the pavement to casually balance the bike while I wait to go across the street. I tried, but I fell.

This is not me.  I know enough to wear a helmet.  Because I fall.

The last time I fell I broke my wrist.  

I asked my bike-mechanic/long-distance rider/biking EXPERT- husband to lower the seat so that I could put more of my foot on the pavement, rather than just the very tip of my toe.

He said, and I quote, "You have to learn how to dismount gracefully." Apparently that involves gracefully sliding off of the seat as I gracefully put the very tip of my toe on the pavement.

Alrighty then. What that means to me is that I have to fall again and again and again in order to practice and finally learn how to GRACEFULLY DISMOUNT.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Lower the seat! Or I will, if I can find the right wrench. You use a wrench for that, right?

As the Flying Spaghetti Monster is my Witness

I will NEVER ride an exercise bike or walk on a treadmill (unless it's for physical therapy after I fall and break something while riding a real bike, as I did the last time I rode a real bike) AGAIN.

I realized over the weekend that the reason I avoid going to the gym is that I HATE, HATE, HATE riding exercise bikes and, even MORE RED HOT HATES, walking on treadmills. (Has no one noticed that they don't GO anyplace on these things?) I was vindicated in this hate when I went to the Dublin Gaol last year and discovered that early treadmills were used as punishment in jails and prisons. HAH! I knew it! Treadmills are from h*ll!!!

So this weekend I bought a new bike to replace the bike that tried to kill me. I sold that evil thing.

This is my new bike, bought after many journeys on several models around the bike store parking lot.

It's so pretty. 

And after I showed the salesman this:

the scar from the broken wrist surgery that I needed after my last bike ride on Killer Bike, I made him promise that I was buying the proper size bike for me.

So off I go, but I will not be riding on the Forsyth County Greenway that crosses over swampland. Swamps don't provide the cushioning you might expect. Trust me on this.

The Demon Bike is Gone

We just sold the Demon Bike, the one I fell off of. I think it was just too tall for me, even though when I bought it, I had tried it out, compared it to others, and felt fine on it.

For a brief few days while I was recovering from the surgery to fix my broken wrist, I thought, “I WILL ride that $%^&* bike. No bike is going to beat me.” Then I looked at the ugly scar running up my arm and thought, “Never mind.”

I had really good intentions when I bought it. I was going to ride it to the Post Office, the grocery store, Michaels, PetSmart, the gym. I even bought a basket and a lock for it. Riding it would be FUN!!!

But the bike did beat me, and now it’s gone. Sniff....sniff...sniff....  I'm actually a little sad about selling it; I really did want to be able to bike places.

Best of luck to the new owner.

I Have Learned

that wearing a cast means

not having to empty the dishwasher.  

Rats.  (about the plate, not about not unloading the dishwasher!)

However, with the permission of my PT, I am allowed to take off my cast to knit (which I had been doing without permission...shhhh), and I have now finished both sleeves.  I was almost finished with the first one when dH said Let's go ride bikes and we all know how that turned out.

I am so happy to be able to work on this but not so happy that now I have to rip out about four inches of the right front.  All I can think is that in an apparent bout of misplaced optimism, I decided to work the last few inches without the chart.  

Now I will rip back and knit using the chart.  

And those little white feet?  Baxter, my supervisor, checking my work.

My New Toy

Aren't you glad you tuned in?

Five more @#$%^&* weeks.

Progress

Really and truly, this is progress, because two weeks ago today I broke my wrist and last Friday, I had this:

installed in my wrist.

The surgeon told me that once the cast and stitches were removed (on Monday, two days from now), I could try to knit.

Hah! said I (to no one in particular) and I just finished my second Sundry.

I even put on the picot edging!

What I have learned from all of this is that exercise is bad for us.  I was riding falling off my bike when I broke my wrist and to add insult to injury, I fell into a swamp.  I was covered with mud and muck and I might hold the record for the dirtiest person ever to arrive at our local emergency room.

But now I can knit, and on Monday, I bet I will be able to work on finishing younger daughter's sweater, the one I started in August.  

I hope.