I Kid You Not

I am sharing the first part of this blog with you as a reference to what comes after this blog.   

I kid you not.  This is the God’s honest truth.  And my truth.

On Novemer 8, 2010 I wrote this:

I am usually the first person to make fun of me.  Things that happen are too bizarre.   Even if they cause me pain or discomfort, I tend to find the funny in it.

But right now my heart is still trying to run  fast enough to burst through my chest cavity and get the hell away from me.   My arm is tingly so I wonder if there is glass in it.  My body, and likely some other forces, are apparently trying to tell me something.

I think there are kinder ways to tell people things.

Monday morning.  I love it.  I am not opposed to Monday’s at all.  Love getting up no matter what morning it is.   I love  getting  on my bike and working up a sweat.   The bike is in it’s semi permanent place in it’s trainer in the “spare” bedroom.   I just moved it a week ago to a corner.  So there is now a wall directly to my left and directly behind me.  Behind me to my right, as I sit on the bike, is a window.  I had opened the bamboo blind yesterday while I rode but didn’t want it up this morning so I lowered it.

In front of my bike is the coolest computer table/desk ever,  that Husband built for me a few years ago.  The computer sits there.  The hand weights sit there.  Tissues sit there.  My water sits on the desk, or in the  bottle  cage attached to the desk.

This morning I cruise through emails and social networking.  I wanted to watch a video while I did my weights.  I found a show I haven’t seen before but a few minutes in to it  decided I think I kind of like it.  I have to be mentally absorbed and then I get the weights going.   So the show is amusing enough,  I pick up the weights and start doing some reps.  I take a few seconds between the sets.  I pick up the weights for the last set.   I’m repping away and…..

CRACK …..at this point insert a louder and fear instilling crack that I can not adequately represent here.

Nano seconds after the crack I hear glass shattering.  Thumping.  Snapping.

And I am wedged between the wall and the trainer the bike sits in.  The weight is on the floor next to me.  My water bottle is on the floor.  My feet are still clipped on to the pedals so I look like I am giving birth to my bike and the trainer.  The bike seat is not on the bike.   The weights are on the floor.  Along with the split it just put in the new floor as it slammed down.

Husband, who is down stairs on his thirty year old exercise bike yells “are you okay”?

I respond “I don’t know”.

And I don’t.  I am still processing what happened.  And have not moved in the 2 seconds since it happened.  By the time he runs in to the room I have surmised that something in the seat broke, from my position I thought it was the actual seat post, but I couldn’t see it well enough.  I just see the seat is gone.  And though I can’t see it I told him glass is broken.  Because most of all I remember that sound.

He had to unclip one of my feet.  I grabbed where the seat use to be and pulled myself up.

I still don’t know if I’m alright.

I put the weight through the window.   The blind saved my hand from going through it, when the weight hit it it was still in my hand and I propelled the weight forward after that which is why it was lying in the middle of the floor.

Husband said “I’ll clean this up” and I said “well what am I suppose to do”.   He looked at me funny, got me some gloves and a bucket and I picked up the larger pieces of glass and put in the bucket while he used the vacuum to pick up the minute pieces.  Then I just stood there.

My heart and my brain are totally out of sync.

There is no sense being made.

He told me to go get some tea.  I got coffee.

I still don’t know if I’m okay.

He came in and showed me the little bolt that had broken.  The little bolt that holds the seat to the bike post.  The little bolt that keeps your seat at the tilt you want it, and apparently keeps you attached to the bike.   I am thinking that little bolt should not have broken.

I’m not laughing yet.

I’m sure I will.

Today, exactly two years to the same damn day….

I get on my bike.  

Innocent. Safe. Deceiving.

I get on this very innocent appearing bike.  I ride.  I start to sweat.  I’m reading emails, blogs, responding to people.  Working my way through to get to the news of the day.


I fly backwards, slamming my back in to the wall.  My butt on to the tire.   My right calf into the trainer and wheel hub.

This time Husband comes running upstairs.  There’s no yelling from downstairs.  I am quite shocked to tell you the truth.  Because as I got my shoes on to ride this morning I wondered to myself if this exact thing is ever likely to happen again.   I probably think that about four out of every six times I get on the bike.

He asks if I’m okay.  I don’t know.   Things hurt.

Oh.   Why?

What’s missing?

Do you notice anything missing?

Most bikes I ride have seats on them.   And this one did.  Until half way through my morning pedal.   Because this broke:

These are what hold the seat on.  The piece in my hand is the piece of the bolt we could find.  We haven’t found the other piece that snapped off.  Yet.

I think Trek is getting a letter from me.

And no, I’m not laughing yet.

The scariest part of this?   I went to write this, to calm myself down.  I pulled up the above blog post and realized it was written exactly two years ago.  Today.   The two very bizarre incidents that are highly unlikely to happen once, let alone twice, happened on the same day.  At the same time.  To the same person.

If you don’t believe me.   Go to November 10, 2010 and check my blog.  When I went to link to the blog so I could share the two timing bike mishap of huge unlikelihood proportions I got a little bit of a chill and scare when I saw the date.

I’m not sure of the message to take from this.