When Things Fall Apart

It took one hit from a car while I was riding my bike. In addition to my torn up ankle, I lost some things that I valued. Material things, but things I valued nonetheless. Regardless, I somehow managed to emerge with fewer injuries than most would imagine possible.

My favorite sandals were torn to shreds. I realize that I implanted too many human emotions into those sandals, but they were with me for thousands upon thousands of miles (or kilometers). They were strapped to my feet through much of my previous two trips through the Blue Ridge Mountains, over most Saint Louis city streets, through the Shawnee National Forest, through local parks and into countless new neighborhoods and shops. In a flash they were shredded beyond repair. Perhaps because of their minimalist nature, they felt like an extension of me.

My bicycle got banged up, but I was just informed that the repairs are complete. Both wheels were destroyed, the handlebar tape was ripped from the bars due to the impact with the pavement, and there were some issues with the crankset and drivetrain that I didn’t fully understand. I am lucky that the bike was repairable!

My shirt was ripped up on the backside from the impact of my body hitting the pavement and sliding a bit. It was a shirt made of merino wool, nature’s greatest performance fabric. Merino naturally fights bacteria and regulates body temperature. The merino sheep are cooled by their wool when it’s hot and insulated when it’s cold. Merino is precious, but also delicate. Road abrasion will beat it every time.

My left shoulder was bruised to the point that I could barely lift my arm over shoulder level for three days. However, it has since healed. This was the first point of impact.

My left hip, the second point of impact, was similarly bruised. And similarly, it has healed over the course of the last two weeks.

There are several cuts on my right knee. One of them will scar. To be honest, I never felt pain there. I think it was because all of the pain that I was allowed from the hit went straight to my right ankle.

The right foot has severe sprains. Two weeks in and the bruises on this foot are still visible. There is a particularly nasty bruise on the sole that did not even manifest for several days. I am icing the foot constantly and trying to walk a little farther each day. The doctor estimated it will be about three months before it fully heals. I believe that it will be much less time. I heal quickly; I will be running before October. I am already walking with a much more natural gait, albeit also with the help of a brace.

Things fall apart and it can happen in a flash. It is a reminder of the danger in placing too much value on your stuff. Your stuff has one commonality with you: it won’t last forever.

I am lucky that this time, all of me will heal. Eventually there will just be one tiny scar on the knee to serve as memory of this hit. The body will heal.

There is a cheesy line from the Papa Roach song “Scars”. “The scars remind me that the past is real.” Simple but true, literally and figuratively.

When I flick up my tongue in my mouth, I can feel the scar along my gumline from which a tumor was once pulled out of my head. It is the only evidence that such a mass ever existed. I think there is beauty in scars, as there is beauty in calluses and birthmarks.

The cut on the knee is conveniently next to a scar that I attained when I was about ten. At ten, I loved speed (I still do). That was why I ran: to feel my top speed. So one day I ran down a sand dune in New Mexico at full speed, but tripped near the bottom and went tumbling into the nearby street.

The current cut happened about 25 years later and was a little less exhilarating.

The body may serve as a museum of the past, whereas material things just get tossed in a dumpster. Sandals replace sandals and bike wheels replace bike wheels. I guess there are knee and hip replacements out there, but such a transplant is rare.

As Clive Barker puts it, each person is a book of blood.