StanLe and I were going up Ocean Blvd and the sidewalk was uneven. My tire got stuck against that inch or so wall where the slabs do not meet. I was curving from the left to the right. The Trikke stopped curving, I didn't.
My second trip to the cement was slow and drawn out, not like the blackout of my first fall. I saw a woman in a car at the curb. She was smoking a cigarette. The car door was open. It was an old car. Boom, my knees hit, then my wrists, then my head, Boom.
I rolled over onto my back. I was screaming for my knee this time, not my nose. I heard a woman's voice say "I've done that a thousand times." Then she asked "are you ok?"
Thankfully I was. There was no blood this time. I was so glad to have heard her say she had fallen like that a few times. And StanLe confirming. As StanLe reminded me, "You're an athlete now, it's a sports injury -- ice and elevate." I've been on the couch ever since.
Am I taking this too far? No one said "be careful" to me that day.
photo by Randy Boyd
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