I am most fearful that I have broken something, that I will discover some ghastly bone protruding through flesh. But after a moment's investigation I am relieved to find only scraped skin, slight bleeding, aching hipbone. And a measure of injured pride. Roman applies hydrogen peroxide and bandages, and we are off again, not too much the worse. At lunch we discover a quarter-inch dent in the back of my helmet where my skull would have connected with curb.
Lunch is delicious.
Yet as I down the sandwich, I am startled by how fragile it all is, how quickly things can change. How one moment you're sailing along exuberantly tasting the sweetness of life, the next you're flat on the asphalt amid blood and pain. How the happiness of a given moment seems to be eternal-and yet how the wheels can spin out from under you without warning at any moment. And yes, how precious and sweet this particular chapter of my life is, here, in the desert, biking miles across the valley floor. To have repossessed my own health and vigor, no matter how long or brief that repossession proves to be.