More gore:
Luckily, no cranial clubbing. I landed pretty much full on my palms, but all that force transferred to my wrists, which are pretty much useless today. I told Cara that I felt like I just had two fish attached to my shoulders - they feel like all they can do is flap around. And hurt.
All it took was one little chunk of road flotsam to turn me into street chum:
Such a nice day for a shipwreck, too. I was out of the seat sprintin' down Southern in the bike lane and just didn't see it and wham, fuh-LIPPED. And of course the thing doesn't weigh like a pound; it's that hard Styrofoam stuff inside of bumpers. Yet somehow it was enough to bend the crap outta my fork.
Oh well, at least my carbon monoxide levels are normal.
So now it's a nice two-to-eight week recovery time, during which I will undoubtedly still play polo and make it longer/worse.
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