A month or so ago I said I would consider writing a part time job. I lied. Big time. If it really was a job, I’d been fired about 3 days after I’d written that post. Instead, I’m exercising. I think I’ll do just about anything to avoid finishing my manuscript.
Yesterday, I ran around a block 7 times. We ran up hill as fast as we could then recovered the next 3 lengths of the block, making a square. My friend Cathy and I were the first ones there. Sarah, the instructor, told the two of us that if I’d worn shorts, she would have cut the number of drills by one. I wore capris. I’m buying shorts tomorrow.
Then, after going home, I worried I wasn’t getting enough combination training in. So I decided to go on a short bike ride. Then I was going to pack a room and write for an hour. Because I’m nothing if not unrealistic.
I rode about a mile, turned down a side rode, and decided to turn around. I hadn’t seen anyone on my ride. Until I decided to turn around. There were four people in their yard who watched me turn on gravel. My bike slid out from under me and I slid across the road. I’m really glad I was wearing capris.
I got up. The people asked me if I was ok. I said I was. I tried to ride away. My chain was off. I put it back on before one of the guys got to me to help. I was feeling really tough. Until the air hit my arm which was missing a layer of skin. Then I felt like calling my husband on my cell and telling him to come get me. But I made it home.
Kevin wouldn’t clean out my wound. He told me to shower. He mentioned something about me being mean when hurt. I took a shower. I yelled a little when water hit my arm. I got out. Kevin looked at my arm and mentioned I didn’t clean it very well. I told him to shut up. (this may be what he’s talking about.) I asked for morphine. He said he was plum out.
I put a big bandage on it because it makes me feel better. Then I wrote a paragraph and went to bed.
I will do anything to get out of writing.