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I should have stayed in bed…

Life throws you a curve ball when you least expect it. And though this is what I consider a tiny curve ball, you just never know when something like this will happen to change the entire course of your day.

This is interesting because yesterday I had a thought. A day is like clay. I was thinking I could possibly turn that thought into a poem. My thought was that a day is never set in stone and that we have the power to change the course of our day by our thoughts or actions. I was thinking that a day could be molded in whatever way we wanted, like clay.

This morning that whole theory went out the window because of the curve ball. I had a 40-mile ride scheduled with Team in Training. I only had an hour’s drive to the location and roll time was 9am. My plan was to leave about 7:40. I was on schedule.

Everything was loaded in the car and then I remembered I needed my pump. I felt my tires after I hitched my bike to the car and the back tire felt a little low. I had already been in and out of the house several times as I loaded up all the crap you need to go on a bike ride. Remember I wrote about getting a new porch built last week? Well that was postponed to this coming week, so I am still going up and down makeshift steps. I started up my steps and I tripped. I fell so hard on my left knee that I thought I was going to black out. The pain was searing. I sat there for a minute or two, then hobbled up and laid down on my bed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

As the pain started to subside, I took a look. I had my leg warmers on so at least they acted as a barrier. Still, there was a dime sized patch of skin missing and it was completely white. A few minutes later, it was starting to turn purple. It didn’t feel too bad so I pretended like it didn’t happen and got in my car and started driving. It was aching. Right about the time I reached Petaluma, I looked at it again and it was swelling. Who was I kidding? I turned around and came home where as I sit here typing, I am icing my knee.

So I am thinking that days are not made of clay. Maybe some days, but not this one.

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Gretchen L. Kelly, Author

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