Hopefully Not Broken, Just Bent.

In all of my years of falling down, I've only really broken one bone. When I was seven, I broke my thumb when my front wheel came off my bike while I was jumping curbs. When the fork dug into the ground, I went flying, and my front teeth and the thumb took the hit.

Sure, I cracked ribs falling down in cyclocross, but that was child's play.

I don't know if I did something serious this time around. I'll go to the ER on Tuesday when we're back home, and hopefully everything will show I just did my usual soft tissue mutilation. That's a lot easier to bounce back from, and I have a real problem with staying off the bike. Not racing I can probably live with, but riding? I need to ride. Even a lot of long, slow distance. Turn the pedals over. Fight back the fat and get my endorphin rush. Center myself and process the day's chaos.

I really, really hope I didn't screw up big time. I'm almost afraid to find out for sure.

One way or another, I'll heal. I'd just rather heal sooner rather than later.

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