When working an edge, pay very close attention
I got in a rather dramatic biking accident on Friday. And there's a lesson in it. (Isn't there always...?)
When exploring your edges, PAY ATTENTION.
This was my first road ride since...well, probably since I was a teenager (I've recently been mountain biking). I was pretty sure that I would be fit enough. It would be a little test - of my "not exactly a road bike", of my comfort in a new crowd, and of my road-riding skills.
The ride had proceeded nicely, through various turns and beautiful rural-suburban redwoods. Santa Cruz. Scotts Valley. Beautiful terrain, and a beautiful day. I had kept up just fine, was mostly near the front of the group, feeling competent.
We stopped for a coffee, and our little remnant of five became three as two peeled off to head home. That left just Paula, Ron, and me.
Anyways, I found myself feeling powerful heading up an incline, and pushed to the front, keeping my momentum rolling strong. Atop the crest, I embraced my speed and leaned into the downhill. I was alert, watching my posture and my balance, and noticing the contour of the road. I felt the thrill of speed, and the confidence of control.
I thought, OK, how accurate can I be here, while I'm cruising? I edged my wheels closer ot the side of the road, hoping to practice precision riding, hewing to the right, making the road beside me as wide as possible for any cars to pass. It all seemed to be going so well...
Then I realized that I was in the front, and didn't know the route. So I looked over my shoulder to see if I could see Paula. And, being that close to the edge of the road, by the time I looked back, I was over the line. And, like in the picture above, there was no real paved shoulder on this rural road.
Zipping downhill on a road with no shoulder, close to the line, looking back over my shoulder.
"Not too smart," you say.
I agree.
I had very little time to react, and could not keep the bike on the road. Bouncing into the muddy-gravelly shoulder, I tried to control the bike, but was heading for a large community mailbox station. You know the kind - A washing-machine-sized rectangle of industrial steel, on a thick steel post sunk in concrete.
Needless to say, breaking was an urgent matter. But I guess I braked too hard for the terrain, my front wheel skittered and then locked, and I was over the handle-bars, the bicycle doing its own flip just behind and under me.
I landed hard on my wrists, and tucked and rolled most of the momentum away, coming to a stop when the steel post of the mailbox met "ever so gracefully" my abdominal obliques and right ribs.
Ouch.
I took stock. I was very lucky. A skinned knee, a dull ache in my ribs (which didn't last), and a goose egg on my left calf, where the handle-bars poked me hard as I landed.
And my wrists. They were the biggest casualties. I'm lucky, as I say. My body is mending quickly. I'll be performing with the band this coming Friday. I could easily be in the hospital.
I may share more on the healing journey I'm taking with my wrists, but for now, let's just say "I'm paying close attention" to some new edges that have emerged from my experience.
So, as much as I encourage us all to explore our edges, there's an important corollary here: When exploring your edges, PAY ATTENTION. There's a reason it's called an "edge" - because things change dramatically there. Things can be unstable, and the relatively straightforward "if <x> then <y>" perspectives don't apply. Things become non-linear at edges, and changes can be unpredictable, happen quickly, and have large effects.
So whether it's on the yoga mat, in a sporting event, or in your personal explorations of emotional and psychic landscapes, please do explore your edges. But do so with a kind of disciplined focus that will keep you safe.