Pride Comes Before...

What started out as a perfect day to go on a biking trip with friends along the Belt Parkway in South Brooklyn ended in a not-so-good note. The crazy thing is, it was bound to happen. 

It was 5:30 in the morning. The sun casted orange rays over the Jamaica Bay as it slowly made its journey up. It reminded me of summers in Cebu perched on top of the roof with my sister, hot and sweaty from playing all day, yet happy and content. The thought warmed my heart.

My friends and I took selfies with the sunrise right before we rode up the slope and over the bridge. This was not my first time on this uphill path but somehow today it made me anxious. I don’t know if it was the bits of gravel that flew to my face as cars sped past, the spray of water from the sprinkler system that got into my eyes, or the high walls that bordered the narrow bike path on each side. I was relieved when we got off it onto the wider and more forgiving parts; although I hinted a sense of trepidation for the return ride. If this were a story in a book, this part foreshadowed the events that took place a few hours later. 

Everything went smoothly for a while. I spotted a dead fish on the wayside and wondered at the possible stories associated with that random sight. Two rabbits peeked out of the bushes and I thought, “Could this day get any better?” When we got to Floyd Bennett Field, we decided to go in and explore instead of continuing on to our usual route. It was a nice change. The park had a huge campground by the bay and we lingered there for a bit and chatted about life before we started to head back.

As we exited the area, 4 raccoons watched us intently before crossing the street and disappeared into an abandoned building. The menacing look they gave us shook my friend a little because she had an incident with one that got into her house and scratched the dog. Up to that point, I’ve only read about them or seen them on TV or the movies; so despite my friend’s uneasiness I was secretly elated that I finally got to see not one but four in the flesh. Five miles into this trip and it already proved to be the most colorful we’ve had in a while. Little did I know, it was about to get more interesting. 

At 7:00 am, the sun was a bit too much as it turned a 60-degree day to 80. I had to take my sweater off because I knew that once I started up that bridge again, I would regret it if I didn’t. The heat bothered me to the extent where I was tempted to take my helmet off. The decision not to do so might’ve just saved my life. 

Remember the bridge I was dreading? On the way back, I scaled the ascent with flying colors. I huffed and puffed all the way up but I thought I did better than earlier. It gave me such a high that I allowed myself to speed up a little on the way down. I’m normally more cautious when going downhill (i.e., fingers on the brakes at all times, conscious of the speed, etc.), especially with this lighter bike that I recently got. But today, I was feeling a tad confident because I was familiar with the path. 

Shortly after the descent, I knew that it was going to stay level for a bit before I get to another slope. I always shift to the easier gears when going uphill and switch back to the harder ones afterwards. Since I’m a novice rider, my balance on the bike leaves a lot to be desired and shifting causes me to wobble more than usual. I have gotten better at it over the years but I'm still a bit unsteady when I do it. Which is why I don’t normally change gears while going downhill; I’m usually too busy minding the brakes to shift anyway. So what possessed me to do it before even reaching the plain is beyond me. Was it in anticipation of the looming slope? Was it absent-mindedness (my mind was still on raccoons after all)? Or was it plain cockiness?

All I know is it happened in the blink of an eye. One moment I was seated calmly and in control, the next I was swaying like crazy, the bike felt it was moving too fast, I panicked and pressed hard on the brakes, and then the inevitable happened. I flew off, tumbled to the ground, and ended up with the bike on top of me. 

I say inevitable because that’s what happens when inexperience meets recklessness. There is something to be said about having a healthy dose of fear. Maybe fear is too strong of a word; caution or prudence may be more palatable. But, yes, it never hurts to be a little cautious.

I didn’t sustain any major injuries. I am in a lot of pain because I have contusions and scrapes on my shoulders, hips, thighs, and arms. It’s hard to move; to turn from one side of my body to the other while in bed is torture. But no fractures, sprains, or anything that would warrant a hospital visit. Thank God!

My friend asked if I’d be scared to bike for a while. No! Not at all! But I’ll be more careful next Saturday. That’s a promise.

It is actually worse than it looks. :(