And my new team kit is fine.
And my bike is fine.
And I was riding well and have been feeling strong.
And I rolled with it and tucked my hands; my wrist is fine.

The bad news is that the Conte’s Tuesday night ride is still as treacherous as ever. I’m talking absolute nightmare amounts of danger. How there hasn’t been a death, I don’t know.

Guy in front of me takes a corner too fast (not the first to do so), loses control (the first to do so), takes out the guy behind him, I do my best to miss that guy, but can’t manage, and I’m down. Immediate thought: “Oh shit, my wrist.” Tucked it, landed on my elbow, and rolled. My glasses fly off as does my water bottle. Car behind us doesn’t pause for a moment for us to gather our things and selves and drives right over my glasses. Classy. Other damage is a pretty bloody, but shallow gash on my finger, a bloody pinky, and some light strawberry up my left arm.

So I’m done with that ride for good. And I need a new pair of glasses. Luckily, I have a collection of old pairs, but I liked the new me. Unfortunately, they were some Costco specials so I likely won’t be able to locate them again. Fortunately, I have my prescription and can just hop on Warby Parker.

Hurray for more healing… I can never seem to get enough of it. Side hurray for all the Vicodin I didn’t take for my wrist, which is all except for a day’s worth.