Musings: The Wrecks, on many accounts.

I had my first bike wreck yesterday. Paul and I concurred that there's rarely a good story behind a wreck; mostly, they revolve around stupid mistakes. Paul, our friend Marie, and I were riding together, sticking in a paceline. We were staying close together for the first few miles, but then began spreading apart as we rode through some small rollers. I glanced back occasionally to ensure I wasn't dropping Marie since she was the one in back and didn't know the route. I looked back, and remember something not feeling right, and when I looked back around, I was rolling into the grass. Moving at normal riding speed. My last thought was that maybe if I cut my wheel left, I might be able to recover. Like the teenager trying to drag their car out of the ditch they're already in, I only caused more problems. Instead of just rolling off and tipping over into the grass, I catapulted myself onto the road surface at high speed. I didn't hit my head... in fact, nothing is injured other than my left arm. I have two huge gashes on my elbow, in the center of road rash. My inner elbow, my shoulder, and the outside of my hand are pretty painful, but I think I'll pull through :D I just feel like I got in a fight.

I had had the worst sense of "impending doom" about this ride, but had assumed I was just nervous about riding up Crystal Ridge again. Something didn't feel right. I almost wish I had listened. But the bike is fine. I'll be fine. I'm waiting, listening, doing whatever happens in this in between time. The bad part is that Paul leaves for a trip soon. I'll be stuck parenting on my own with a hurt arm... good times.

Appointment with the doctor tomorrow for my foot. I'm a little concerned he will have a hard time taking my foot injury seriously when I walk in bandaged up like I am. Hopefully he can get me on track with that. I currently feel like I need a doctor on hand at all times like a professional athlete...

Speaking of professional athletes...

Lance was stripped of all his titles today. It's a sad day. I don't understand crucifying one man for the sins of the many. His competitors hadn't woken up and just eaten their Wheaties... so who do those titles go to? Everyone was doping... everyone.

I don't condone doping. No athlete should feel under pressure to do so. But I can imagine the young Armstrong realizing he had to get a leg up on the competition to continue doing what he loved at a higher level.

You don't ride bikes if you don't love it. You don't want to excel at cycling if you don't love it. Some of his story is nothing like it has been portrayed. I can accept that. That doesn't change the fact that he is an exceptional athlete with an exceptional story of recovery and hope. It saddens me that his story is tainted with this... his personal witness (not in the Christian sense of the word... just public perception of his integrity) has been damaged.

Part of me will always see it as doing a great deal of bad to do an even greater deal of good.

I just feel conflicted. And I'm not really even an Armstrong fangirl.