Once upon an accident....

Falling down became second nature and it really didn't bother me.
Nancy Kerrigan

So last week I fell off my Bicycle.

One second I was upright, the next I was facing the ground with the dog dragging me across the driveway.

A friend told me I should blog about it.

The only problem with that idea is, the wounds are still a little too fresh.

Not to my pride, that's used to being bruised by dumbass accidents.

But my actual wounds still hurt.. my knee still bleeds if I bend it too much, I can't do anything more strenuous than walking to the bathroom with out a knee brace, and the bruises, although not as bright, are still covering 85% of my lower body.

so needless to say, all I can think to write about the situation is....

I went for a bike ride. I fell. It sucked.

Perhaps with a little time it will get funnier, and I can blog about it. For now it's just a story about how everything in life this week has been slightly more difficult than need be.

On the other hand... I have fallen off things before, and those wounds have healed nicely.. so let me tell you about the time I fell off the horse....

It was a few years ago in in the Dominican Republic. A group of us decided to go horseback riding.

Now let me just clarify, that I don't actually know the first thing about riding a horse, other than it is simply something I feel the urge to do every single vacation.

It's like drinking one of those kamikaze drinks, it's not something you do on your average weekend, or something that is necessarily a good idea, or even something you particularly enjoyed the last time you did it.

Yet still you think you should since you are on vacation. It's time to do something stupid.

This rodeo ranch actually come up and above par for Caribbean horseback riding. The horses are strong and healthy looking, well groomed, most of them seem to be under the age of 75.

And the trail we are taking is a nice ride along a beach.

This goes far beyond a shorter horse back ride that we had taken earlier in the vacation with another tour group.

That "trail" involved the driveway to the ranch, and a back road. We rode on horses that aren't much bigger than your standard size poodle... and I'm pretty sure one of them whispered to me that he was the original "Silver" from the Lone Ranger.

Add to that, the fact that the workers rode mopeds and zipped back and forth up and down the road yelling to the horses to get moving and you get a not so very enjoyable ride.

That what happened when you pay $15 in the DR.

When you pay $65 you get healthy horses and a beautiful beach. You get tour guides who are so good at riding they actually stand up on their saddles to check on everyone. Quite impressive.

Before we head out on the trail we all pose for photo ops on our strong healthy horses, and Rachel mentions that I look lopsided... I checked my bathing suit top and then thought nothing more of it...

(Just kidding, I don't think I actually checked anything... I was on a horse!! Life was Awesome!!!! Who cares if I'm crooked???)

Apparently the horse does.

A half hour into the ride, we have made it the entire way down the beach. Some horses are taking their own sweet time (mine) and some are full tilt running.

It looks really cool..... everyone who is not running, is trying to urge their horse on to run. We all want to be having as much fun as Lee and Carla, who have the horses trying to race each other to be in front.

We can tell it's fun because of their shouts of joy.

Suddenly, just like on the bike, I am one second upright, and then I am sideways.

My horse does not enjoy this, so he rears up and I fall flat on my back.

I'm not really hurt, because we are on sand dunes, but I'm petrified I did something wrong to piss it off.

(The saddle had actually come loose, and scared the horse. No one figured that out at the time, which is why the next series of events unfolded as they did).

One of the trail leaders comes over with a "Please don't sue our ass" look on his face, asking if I'm alright.

I'm fine and I'm just asking if the horse is mad. I really don't want to get back on a horse that hates me.

(While I fully believe if you fall off a horse you should get back on, I do think there is a loophole there somewhere for horses that are having a slight case of PMS.)

So since we are an hours walk back from the ranch, the leader tells me I can have his horse, and he'll take mine.

What a plan.

I stupidly agree. And so instead of falling off a little horse and getting back on it, I fall off a little horse and get back on one that is twice as big.

After heaving myself into the saddle I realize the mistake.

And as I open my mouth to mention that maybe I am a little more afraid on the big horse and I'd rather take the little angry guy... my horses instincts kick in.

He is a horse that is usually only rode by one of those Dominican cowboy leaders that can do things like handstands on the saddle.

He is also used to being in front of the group... you know, leading everyone.

So that's what he decides to do. Go from the back of the group... to the front a half mile ahead of us.

And since I actually have no idea wtf to do on a horse, I can do nothing but hold on for dear life, as we run the entire length of the beach.

People cheer me on as I pass them.

As I pull closer to Lee and Carla, I realize their shouts of joy, are actually screams of terror.

I know this because they sound exactly like mine.

My most valuable lesson learned from this experience, is that I am a fast healer.

The scars I have on my shins from the saddle are pretty much non existent now, three years later.

So that give me hope, that even those I look like a six year old these days, with Band-Aids covering my knees by the time I'm thirty I'll have adult legs again.

That is if I can manage not to fall off anything between now and then.