Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Morris Hill

During my fourth grade year, I broke my leg on the first day of spring break. It was a perfect day for a bike ride; and although reading was my favorite thing, riding my bike was a close second. I rode my purple bike past the weeping willow tree at the corner, around the curve behind my elementary school, past my piano teacher's house; and then, against my better judgment, I stood up above the seat, pushing the pedals, propelling myself halfway up Morris Hill.
I was not an adventurous girl, preferring to read about adventures; but on that day, I dared myself to ride down Morris Hill. I was afraid...too afraid to start at the top of the hill; but halfway up was still so steep. I climbed off the bike and turned it around by the handlebars, dragging the back tire sideways. I stood beside the bike, convincing myself that the thrill would be worth the threat.
I slung my right leg over the seat, my toes barely touching the pavement. I knew when I lifted my feet, I could not turn back.
I was too scared to count down or even take a deep breath. I just lifted my feet onto the pedals, and I was flying. It was glorious and fast and fun. My hair streamed behind me, my jacket clung to my chest, my eyes were slits against the wind; but I could still see everything whizzing by in a grey green blur of sidewalk and shrubs.
I don't remember my back tire bumping the curb. I don't remember the crash or bumping my head on the low concrete wall; but I do remember opening my eyes to see my right foot tangled in the spokes of the back tire of my ruined bike.
My femur was broken, a terrible break, leaving my thigh nearly as ruined as my bicycle. I would spend 28 days in traction and even longer in a cast. Fortunately, I was a reader; and the weeks passed more quickly than they would have for a more adventurous girl. I read so many books that year that I won the read-a-thon. My prize was a $100 gift certificate to Sears, which I used to buy a new bike.

6 comments:

  1. Oh the irony! I was also never an adventurous kid (still not adventurous!) and have a bike riding story to tell when I pushed myself past my usual comfort zone. Your story reminded me of that one! I love that books helped you pass the time and that all your reading won you a new bike. Such a great story!

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  2. Oh the irony! I was also never an adventurous kid (still not adventurous!) and have a bike riding story to tell when I pushed myself past my usual comfort zone. Your story reminded me of that one! I love that books helped you pass the time and that all your reading won you a new bike. Such a great story!

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  3. Yikes! I think you are braver than I would be. I'm not adventurous at all. I live my adventures for the most part through my reading. I'm glad you were able to read during your recuperation. I'm not sure I could even write about that experience much less get on a bike again after that!

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  4. Yikes! I think you are braver than I would be. I'm not adventurous at all. I live my adventures for the most part through my reading. I'm glad you were able to read during your recuperation. I'm not sure I could even write about that experience much less get on a bike again after that!

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  5. I kept wincing, waiting for the fall. Makes my broken arm seem very tame. I loved how you built up the speed.

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  6. I'm just wondering if I should take this into account before we attend that spin class! I'm not sure I've ever been able to convince myself the the thrill is worth the threat. So sorry that it was a terrible break but I am glad "it was glorious and fast and fun".

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