It always seems to happen when I’m feeling my "coolest". I mentioned in an earlier post that I now attend a Saturday spinning class. I’ve now been to about 10 classes, and am finally getting the hang of it. Yesterday, I was really in the zone. Feeling the beat of the music, maintaining the right cadence on the bike, I felt in sync with the instructor’s motivating mantras. "Feel your power." "Stand tall." "You are so amazing." I felt, tall, rhythmic, amazing – an athlete, an achiever, a pioneer.
Then it happened. For one brief moment, in the midst of a standing run (i.e. standing on your bike, pedalling at a rapid speed) I lost my balance and I fell. Collapsed off the bike, yet tied to the bike because my feet were strapped in. The instructor had to get off her bike and help me up with the assistance of the rider next to me.
There it was – that nightmare moment when everyone’s watching and something really, really awkward happens. All of a sudden, everyone’s staring at you and your all-consuming clumsiness (which you’ve know all about all along and try so desperately to conceal from the rest of the world).
So, I got back up on the bike and kept riding. I didn’t flee the studio in shameful tears – though the thought ran through my mind. I asked myself, "What would you have told your kids in the same situation?" Of course, you have to get up and move on. I know, at this age, that no one really cares. Everyone is on their own personal journey, focusing on their on goals and trying to survive, just like me.
By the way, my left knee now boasts a 2 inch bruise and a 4 inch bloody scrape. The Dora band-aid barely covers the wound.