Double-or-nothing: a crash course in whiplash and concussion.

Ok, so last week, this was me at the top of the (cat 4) hill up fourth street, heading toward UBC:

Happy...

  

if a little on the stupid side.

Last week, I was riding as often and as far as time permitted. 

 I was happy.  Mmmm, happy.

Then I crashed, and I wasn't even taking photos from the saddle! 

I don't remember much about the wipe-out except that I caught Lido's wheel when I was drafting him on the Richmond flats and then entered the darkness. I don't need to remember anything to know I landed on my head and shoulders, though.  One look at wounds and my helmet says it all.

 I am already well familiar with darkness, 

after all, I love nothing more than to ride at stupid o'clock in the morning

because sooner or later light conquers the dark no matter how thick and deep it is.

But there's darkness and then there's Darkness,

and Dylan Thomas nailed it when he advised

"Do not go gentle into that good night,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Later that afternoon I looked something like this:

That's me seeing two of everything. My hands don't have a scratch... 

apparently I saved them in favour of my noggin.

I landed on my shoulder, which then looked like this:

It still looks a lot like that, 

and I'm still seeing double.  On the plus side, it also looks a lot like the evil eye talisman, and so with my capacity for scarring I will undoubtedly be protected from evil till the end of days.  And who knows?  An extra eye might also explain why I'm seeing double or nothing these days. In any case, it's as good an explanation as the shrug the neurologist offered.

Sometimes doubling up is a very good thing.  Imagine you have a dollar and you deposit it in the bank till one day the bank says "Thank you for letting us use your dollar all this time; here is a dollar of the profits we made as payment for the use of your money and a token of our appreciation,"  that's a good double up, right?

But usually two-timing just sucks.

Seeing two sets of steps as you prepare to walk downstairs, for example, isn't happy-making. Today you'll sometimes find me concentrating on something with one eye closed, for simplicity's sake. 

I miss my bike.  I miss blogging, and I miss you, dear reader, but please don't worry.

I am strong.  I heal quickly and well. I'm just resting now, for a little bit.

I'll be back before you know it, babbling on and riding strong.