There Will Be Blood

Tonight’s entry ends blooded and bruised. But it starts well…

The day began beautifully: sunny skies, clean air, sweet breezes. Work was great. I got buy in on my L.A. proposal. I’ll be returning to Santa Monica in three weeks, and periodically thereafter, to continue growing MTV Online L.A. That’s cool. That’s a win. Slow and steady movement. It was a busy, super-charged day. Lots of productive, bridge-building corporate meetings. And Kevin called to tell me he’d booked a date in Chapel Hill. So I now have two “Summer’s Gone” tour dates. Which is wicked exciting.

So I double-timed it home and hopped right on my bike. Rode up to 80th Street and had a delicious meal on my buddy John’s rooftop. Then I hopped back on the Canny, cranked the Crows, and headed upriver for log more miles. I turned back south on 140th Street as daylight faded into the Hudson, all blue diamonds and golden urban glow. I was racing down the promenade, thinking how great my life is, how lucky I am, how exilerating it is to charge into the challenge of the unknown, into the darkness. As I raced off the path and onto the street, I met my limits head on.

I pointed my tires into the puddle, into the gravel, for fun — like diving off a cliff — but turned my bars just a fraction too far and too fast and laid down the bike. And myself with it. I rode out the fall on my left hip and elbow, leaving a trail of flesh and blood behind me on 59th Street. I popped right up off the pavement, looked around to see if anyone saw the wipe, then started groaning. I swore all the way home. Tonight was no time for an injury, with a road race Saturday, and a triathalon Sunday. I limped up the stairs cursing myself, laughing at my foolheartyness, moaning.

I showered — excruciating burning pain all along my left side, punching at the walls, throwing things, cursing — scrubbed the dirty street out of the cuts, and dumped peroxide on everything. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Then I poured myself a Gatorade and Gray Goose, and settled into the pain. Three Advil, and ice pack, and some gooey ointment later, here I am, typing gingerly, wondering why exactly The Big G decided tonight was the night to remind me of the Earthly limitations.

Don’t worry, though. I’ll keep diving off cliffs. I’ll keep charging into the darkness. I’ll keep riding too fast, too far. Life’s too short not to. Cuts and bruises are part of the deal. And cuts always heal, leaving thicker skin behind.

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