Appointment in Samarra*

It’s great to be out in LA, away from the cold on the East Coast (though it’s been more dark than cold this year), and revisiting last year’s main ride: The Ballona Creek Bike Path. This year I've found a way to navigate using only sleepy side streets.

Heaven.

I congratulate myself on how smart I was to stay in LA from Xmas through the end of February and so far, I’m having some great rides. One with the LACBC (the LA equivalent of Transportation Alternatives) along Martin Luther King Blvd, a place I’ve never been by bike. The ride is amazing, informative and scenic: this is outside The Museum.

This is a mural which tells the history of African Americans since the beginning of time. It runs about four blocks.

I've also put together two training rides in Cheviot Hills (videos below):
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJDlPG2nCJ8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgldZ1wznO0

I do both of these daily to prepare for upcoming trips with LA Wheelmen, those riders who knocked the stuffing out of me last Christmas (See LA Wheelmen Jan 2015):

In the meantime, I take a day trip with a new cycling friend, R, to her Community Garden plot in West LA.

Omg, it’s almost February! When I think of where I was last year at this time – laid up with a broken wrist because I refused to stop riding and fell in the ice – I can't believe I had the smarts (and luck) to come out here - and stay out here. The riding is phenomenal; it’s warm, and feels so much safer.

After doing some planting (her)

And relaxing (me), we head for home, along Washington Blvd. R rides faster in traffic than I do, so I hang back. But I'm still not comfortable by how close to the parked cars I am. It seems wiser to ride on the sidewalk. I see a driveway, and head up it. 

And that’s when it happens. My tire slips on something – so fast, I don’t even have time to break my fall. Surprisingly, some pedestrians are on the scene, and quickly get me to my feet; but it soon becomes apparent that my right leg is in no condition to bear weight. I slump back down on the sidewalk and debate my next move. But there is only one move: I call 911.
 
There’s swelling, but no pain; it feels kind of like I banged my knee against the bathtub – a burning sensation which quickly goes away. I’m hoping it’s nothing.
 
But it’s not nothing. By the time I leave the ER, I’ve learned I have a tibial plateau fracture. 

R drops me off at a dark house (as luck would have it, my sister is away). I’m alone and very new on crutches, not even sure where the light switches are. How is this going to work, I wonder?

Propped up in bed, I google the shit out of my condition, and come up with progressively depressing scenarios: 4 months recovery, 6 months recovery, a year recovery - and chances of arthritis.
 
I've ridden exactly one month. I try to maintain optimism but gradually, my situation starts to sink in: I came all the way out to LA to escape the dangers of cold weather, and wound up with a worse injury than the one I sustained last year. Perhaps this could have happened in New York, but all I can think is that this is my appointment in Samarra.*
 
 
*http://www.k-state.edu/english/baker/english320/Maugham-AS.htm