Woman Down - Upside Down!

On the very last day of Walk and Roll to School Week, I escorted a neighbor child along with my skateboard loving son.

The early morning brisk weather was pure heaven; blue skies meant another day full of parents and children arriving at school by foot-powered transportation.

All was well until I pulled out my camera to shoot footage of both boys in an awesome coast through vacant university paths. The younger neighbor boy is more cautious than my son, so much so that I was caught off guard when he stopped where I least expected him to. With camera in my right hand, I squeezed the left brake to avoid a collision, which of course sent me into an unavoidable left-leaning catapult over the handlebars. Ugh. Front panniers came unhinged upon impact. I let go of the camera, which I'd managed to hold onto during the fall. Lying on my side, I was pinned to the asphalt by the handlebars, my feet still in the toe clips, wheels suspended overhead. I suppose I rather looked like a beetle, momentarily upside down with legs wiggling in the air.

Upon hearing the crash, my son came back immediately to help. I fared well, considering the embarrassing predicament (I've now fallen twice due to taking pictures while on the bike). My head was spared. My boy retrieved the camera (my first concern), said it was okay except for scratches. He lowered the bike while I slowly got up. Somehow I only scraped my palm a bit, however my thigh hurt—bruised for sure—though I could still walk. Quick mechanical assessment revealed the bar end had taken the brunt of impact. It pushed into the brake lever; thumbshifter also rotated. I forced the bar end back into position, which rendered brakes and shifting functionable. I pulled myself together, reattached panniers, and continued to school.

Twenty minutes later I was heading off to work, by then feeling much better. I was, however, silently chastising myself for, once again, placing myself in danger so I could photograph while on the fly. But just then two Canadian geese flew overhead, evidently headed for an open field. I watched them tuck and hold wings in downward position for landing, like two synchronized divers. They honked and—I swear—glanced at each other, possibly conferring on landing location. I laughed. And not only at the geese. The irony of my earlier incident suddenly hit me. I smacked the pavement within 300 yards of the hospital emergency room.