The Cycle of Life

Bike riding fast, lost in the freedom of it. Suddenly…..

 

 — swerving, crashing, flying over the handlebars, shoulder, neck and head hit the ground. Everyone at the intersection stops. Every car rolls down their window and calls out.  People run out of the nearby restaurant to ask;

 

“Are you okay?!”

 

Which only makes me want to cry more. 

 

Like that moment when a kid falls, the wind is knocked out of them. They look up at their parent who gasps with instinctual fear.  The small child, still in shock, sees this reaction, thinks, “uh oh” and starts wailing.

 

I was still in shock. 

 

I did not let myself wail.

 

And then he came running over. He knelt down beside me. His soft, German accent washed over me. 

 

“Are you Okay? I’ll keep my distance. Is it okay that I’m here, close to you?” he asked

 

“Yes” I managed to squeak out, “it is. I think I’m okay.”  

 

Adrenaline surging through my body. More than I realized. Holy hell bodies are incredible. 

 

I sat up, rolled my shoulder, felt for broken bones. I willed myself to be okay. The delayed reaction of soreness that was to follow? Oh my sweet Jesus.

 

“I will sit with you.” he said,

 

“I fell off my bike last year and it was such a comfort when a man in a truck pulled over to see if I was okay and just sat with me.” he explained.

 

He started to fix things on my bike while we spoke.

 

“Is it okay that I’m touching your bike?” 

 

So Covid aware. So kind.

 

“Yes, of course! Thank you so much”

 

“My husband is parked in the car across the way” he pointed to the other side of the road, “we can put your bike in the trunk and take you home.”

 

His generosity stunned me.

 

“No, no. I’m okay, I promise.”

 

“Are you from nearby?” he asked

 

“I live in St. Catharines. I’m biking home”

 

His eyebrow raised. St. Catharines was 12 km away.

 

I reacted to the eyebrow. 

 

“No no, I’m fine! Really!”

 

Was I so used to taking care of myself? So used to picking myself up and not expecting help from others, when it does come, I’m in genuine shock. I don’t know how to accept it…..

 

“Okay, well please take my phone number.” he insisted. “If you change your mind, we’ll come and get you in a heartbeat and take you home” 

 

“You are so kind! I can’t thank you enough.” I said, so intensely grateful, also trying to ignore the wave of pain starting to surge to my shoulder. 

 

God bless adrenaline, yoga, being relatively young, and in that moment; dumb.

 

“My name is Jelayna – it’s very nice to meet you.” Pleasantries made me feel safe.

 

“I’m Barney”

 

“Lovely to meet you, Barney.”

 

“Lovely to meet you too” he said, “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

 

We laughed. How did I manage to laugh?? 

 

I rubbed my belly. 

 

His eyebrow raised again. He looked at me with gentle scepticism.

 

“I’m alright I promise! No internal injuries.” trying to smile and sound laissez faire.

 

5 hours later I would finally lift my shirt to see the road rash. I didn’t want to accept how hurt I was. 

 

Denial is almost as powerful as adrenaline.

 

I told him to thank his Husband for pulling the car over, and thanked him profusely once more.

 

He headed to his car. 

 

I looked at my bike.

 

Shit.

 

The chain had fallen off. 

 

You can do this, I told myself.

 

I forced my hand to pry the chain back on to the gear wheel. Oil covered my fingers in a satisfying black coat of earthy grittiness. Oddly comforting. I could feel my hand having trouble grasping things by virtue of soreness. 

 

I swung a leg over the bike.

 

Fear surged.

 

Fuck you, fear, I’m doing this!

 

I put a foot on the pedal

 

FEAR

 

FUCK YOU – I’m going to bike all the way home, damn you! It is 20 degrees in November, a veritable gift from mother nature. I want to do this. I don’t want to call anyone to come get me, because that would mean I’ve failed. 

 

Holy shit what a revealing thought pattern that was. 

 

You didn’t plan this. You didn’t fail. 

 

It. Just. Happened. 

 

Swimming through waves of fear, I got on the bike and went.

 

It hurt.

 

I went.

 

I kept moving my shoulder to make sure it was okay…palpating my collar bone, scapula and ribs to feel for any fractures. Nope. But what does hairline fracture feel like? 

 

Fuck it. 

 

I tried to hold the handlebars.

 

Pain

 

I kept going – I had it in my determined, if all be it, ridiculous head I needed to get home before the sun set. 

 

I watched it in awe. This glowing, golden orb in a backdrop of gold and pink.

 

How dare it be so stunningly beautiful. Its existence in searing contrast to the pain in my body and the conflict in my mind.

 

What if I don’t tell anyone the crash happened? I could totally just keep it secret.

 

Sharp pain surges. The bike is making slightly “off” noises.

 

Shit. I can’t hide this.

 

The bumps in the road send shocks through my body. Shocks that reveal to me I am most definitely injured, but nothing beyond repair…..I think

 

My occupation is moving my body. If it gets taken from me, I’m fucked.

 

And it’s 2020. Enough has been taken.

 

I turn the corner down the road that leads me home. 

 

It’s the quiet road I biked down earlier that day in a state of bliss, taking pictures of late harvest grapes still hanging on the vines.

 

Suddenly I realized how much can change in 2 short hours. It could have been so much worse; broken bones, concussion, hospital. 

 

I felt the urge to cry rising from the pit of my stomach. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, my body began to weep, releasing the shock of it all with big, hot tears and heaving sobs

 

The still small voice we all have, the one that is almost always annoyingly correct knew this hot mess of a necessary breaking point was the perfect time to speak up,

 

“Stop trying to control everything.”

 

More tears.

 

Fuck you all knowing voice!!

 

Yes, I just moved out of my home of 10 years. Forced to leave by an insidious virus.

 

Yes, I just spent a week navigating the emotional minefield that is moving back in with family

 

Yes, I find myself now straddling two worlds, Toronto and St. Catharines, two cities that have deep, complex connections to every fiber of me.

 

Yes, I’m trying to figure out how to evolve and keep my career alive while learning new skills.

 

But all I want is to do is just keep going.

 

Please don’t ask me to sit still and feel the intense results of all of the above.

 

Please don’t ask me to let go of control.

 

Fall off a bike and all your well laid plans will fall by the wayside.

 

By the grace of god, through tears and fears, I made it home.

 

I texted Barney

 

Hi Barney! This is Jelayna, the girl who apparently needs biking lessons lol – just wanted to let you know I made it home safe and sound! Thank you again so much for your help and kindness today!! 🙏🏻

 

He replied;

 

Hi Jelayna! You are so welcome! Thank you for letting me know, I’m glad you made it home safe! I think your are a great biker just blame it on the sun in your eyes 😉 you take it easy and ice that shoulder tonight! I hate to say this but I think you’ll feel it tomorrow. A quick story. I was about 10 and my family and I were driving home from my grandma. We passed a lady who obviously fell from her bike. She was on her stomach crying. I’ll never forget it. I asked my father to stop and he wouldn’t. I cried with her. Today reminded me of that moment. I wouldn’t have done it any other way! I’m so glad you are on your feet and “well”! 🙏 Take care ☺️

 

Ugly cry, sobbing, boogers, laugh-crying at the crazy poetry and intense healing nature of it all.

 

I collapsed to my knees, and wept in the kitchen.

 

My mother was there.

 

I would not have cried so deeply if she was not there.

 

After living alone for 6 years you forget what it’s like to cry around people. 

 

You get used to crying alone.

 

This is not to be pitied. Alone crying is pure and precise.

 

But together crying? You feel safer, seen and held. It’s messier because you and whoever is with you are connected…..but never underestimate safety. It is beautiful. Especially when you need to let go.

 

When someone is in the room with you, odds are they will catch you if you let go, if you collapse.

 

And she did. She wrapped me in a blanket, held me as I wept uncontrollably at Barney’s words. 

 

How in the hell was I not supposed to leak from every orifice in my face after that!!?!

 

“Mom, can I have some wine?”

 

A glass filled to the brim arrives in my hand. Along with pain killers and her presence on the ground beside me. She sat with me as I cried. Her hand softly rubbed my back, her touch helped me to realize slowly; I am safe. I am loved.

 

The experience was so full. So rich. So revealing. 

 

So viscerally exhausting.

 

Eventually I texted a reply;

 

What an incredible full circle moment. Thank you for sharing that with me! Made me cry! I’m so grateful you stopped. It’s acts of kindness like the one you offered me today that fill me with hope ☺️ all the very best to you!

___________________________________________________________

Several lessons from the crash become painstakingly clear; 

 

Slow down. Be seen. Receive help. Let go of control. Let yourself be loved.

 

But most of all – let yourself feel. Because if you try to keep going even when you’re in pain, and pain is your body and mind’s way of saying slow down, well that’s when you injure yourself further.

 

I am grateful for all of it.

 

The whole, crazy ordeal.

 

I am grateful for a bike crash, a big cry and a man named Barney