Good luck or bad? My bicycle accident

Last Sunday about 10:30 am, M and I were riding on the badly-maintained Contra Costa Canal trail just north of Via Montanos in Concord, CA. We had started our ride on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend with the intention of doing a 50-mile tuneup ride for the upcoming Waves to Wine ride we had signed up for (back to back 50s over two days). M was riding for Charles Schwab, and I was an honorary rider for that team. Because one of my heart drugs causes me to sunburn easily, I was wearing long sleeves and long pants, despite a prediction of highs in the 80s. We had started at 8:30, and expected to be done by 12:30; we were on target for time and average speed. 

There is a stretch of the trail which is gravel; it always makes me nervous, because my bike is not a mountain bike. I have slipped in the gravel on several occasions, but never seriously. So I rode very carefully. When I got past it without incident, as I usually do, I relaxed. Alas, I did not account for a large crack in the pavement running parallel to the bike path. The crack was an inch or two deep. It grabbed my back tire and flattened it, and sent me to the ground, face first, at 12 miles an hour.

Ouch.

Thank goodness for the long sleeves and long pants. Had I been wearing shorts, my elbow and knee would have been bleeding wounds full of gravel instead of severe scrapes. Kind of like motorcycle riders in leathers.

Apparently, I would have hit my head, had I not been wearing a helmet--the impact knocked the visor off my helmet. Of course, I haven't ridden a bicycle 10 feet without a helmet since 1980.

I knew I was hurt. I was bleeding and feeling pain from my mouth, my left elbow, my knee, my chin and my side. My teeth! My beautiful new crowns, not fully covered by insurance, for which I had just paid several thousand dollars a few months earlier. Funny, the things you think of at a moment of danger and pain like that. Three years earlier, when I passed out on the freeway at 60 miles an hour and woke up a minute later as my car ran over guardrail and plowed itself into the ground, my first thought was, "Oh my god, my beautiful car." Yup. It was totaled.

Yup, my front teeth were totaled. 

I never lost consciousness. M quickly came to help me up. I was hurting. Normally, I don't run pictures with this column, but you need to see this crack:

We were about 10 or 15 minutes north of our parked car. M rode quickly back while I stood in a shady patch at the intersection of the trail and Via Montanos. (she marked the location on her iPhone, which then gave her directions to get back). I called my dentist--he said there was nothing to be done until after the long weekend, on Tuesday, but it sounded like I had broken my crown AND my tooth. I considered the emergency room, but didn't want to wait several hours for help. I felt sure I was not bleeding internally, and my nose and chin had already stopped bleeding.

Sunday and Monday were not TOO bad--both M and R were home for the Labor Day weekend and we had a barbecue, did a jigsaw puzzle and went to see a movie. As long as I didn't breathe deeply or wear long pants or long sleeves, I was fine. Tuesday, I went to the dentist for the bad news about my teeth, to my GP for a checkup, to the lab for tests to make sure my spleen as OK (it was), and to the x-ray facility to check out my ribs and nose (not broken, no point in fixing my nose unless I have breathing trouble). By the way, all x-rays are now digital. No more film! At least, not a John Muir. Makes it easier to email them around, and speeds up the process--no more guessing if the x-ray is clear, or shows what needs to be seen.

Anyway, I am not an expert on karma, but I now assume I must have been the equivalent of Mother Teresa in at least one of my previous lives. Ironically, I walked away from that 60 MPH car crash in less pain than I am feeling from the 12 MPH bike crash (and I can be sure of my speed because I have a new and newly calibrated speedometer)--probably because there are no airbags on my bike. But in neither case were my injuries a fraction of what they could have been. Just last week, I heard about a man who was walking down the street in NYC when construction debris fell off a building and severed his leg. His friends told him he was lucky. "No, lucky would have involved my not being there," he said.

So, perhaps real karma would have meant not having either accident. On the other hand, in my dim understanding of karma, we undergo experiences that are meant to teach us lessons. I hope I am learning the right ones. Had I been a little more "in the moment," perhaps I would have crossed that crack sideways instead of riding into it. Had I listened to my body, I might have been sitting somewhere other than the driver's seat when I fainted. But then I wouldn't have gotten my pacemaker... this karma stuff is complicated!

I have been afraid of an accident like this since I got back from the Duke Diet Center three years ago. Clearly, if it hurts to breathe, I cannot exercise. I don't know how long this will last. So far, in the first three days, no weight gain, due, I am sure, in no small part to the fact that eating is quite an involved and difficult task at this point. Things may get more difficult once my teeth are fixed. We shall see. I will get "back on the horse" as it were, as soon as I can breathe deeply without pain. Could be as little as two weeks, says the doctor. I will let you know.

[Update on Sunday: Since I wrote this earlier in the week, the rib pain has gone down quite a bit. I went to school on Friday. On Mon-day, I'm going to get back on my stationery bike for the first time in a week. Then, to remind me of the extent of my dental damage, I am going to see a periodontist on Wednesday about getting an implant to replace my front tooth]