Crash

A second before the crash

One moment can turn your world upside down: This may be a blessed moment, like holding your child for the first time. It may be an empowering moment when you graduate with honours. Alternatively, it may be an embarrassing moment, like when your first girlfriend dumps you after a week of dating or, second from the end, after a year of living together. It can be the moment when she finally said "yes", or when you crash your noob driver's BMW compact on the iced motorway 10 miles below the speed limit. Those and more transformed me.

I hope the recent one won't cause such a dent and I can forget it soon.

As it seemed nothing, I wasn't going fast, minding my business on my dedicated cycle lane. The driver chose not to check the mirror despite me being behind him for a while and having strong (but not blinding) lights on. He chose not to turn the indicators. He decided to start turning left, cutting the kerb and my path. He chose to give me about one second to smack my brakes.

At first, I felt anger. Only anger. Later, sharp pain came to the side which hit his van. Only the next day, persistent and depleting pain started to crawl up my spine. It stayed with me like a shadow. Always present. All the time for two weeks now.

I couldn't spend much time trying my best to build or share anything. I tried to get distracted by the flow of work, which I had more than I needed. But the longer I wait for some magic wand to take it away, the more I start to worry: when will I be able to cycle again? Would I feel safe to do it again? Will they feel safe doing it again?

Those two wheels are a cheap commute, cleverly packed into my routine exercise and an excuse to eat a flapjack or almond croissant. Those two wheels are a prayer, meditation, energy and freedom. They keep me going. Now, they have to wait... Not sure how long.

Take one puzzle from the picture, and it may fall apart. I know what I should be doing. I know how I want to spend my time and power. And I try. And I do. And I push through those days. But it's a struggle.

Until I'm back on those two wheels again.