about getting from point A to point B in the most interesting ways possible

If you're a large woman in America, your whole life is an opportunity to feel self-conscious, embarrassed, resentful and way too big. You can hide in the corner or on the couch, you can go to therapy, or you can put on your lycra bike shorts and get out there and move.
—Jayne Williams, Slow Fat Triathlete

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December 21, 2006

what's happening permalink

I realize I haven't been crossposting. I've posted a lot about the accident aftermath on vj.vox.com, though it could be easily summed up as: I hurt, and it's all I can talk about. And unfortunately, it does dominate my thoughts, and it's really bumming me out.

I know that at some point I'll be okay again. And I know I almost got myself killed, or fate just decided to spare me this time.

The other morning, waiting for the bus, I got to watch a woman (well-dressed, seemingly normal) pace between two bus stops on two sides of a corner. First to the #33 bus stop, then to the #6 busstop. Rinse, repeat.

Have you ever had the scary realization that that's what you look like? Mind you, I try very very hard to quell the pacing by, say, reading or knitting or walking to the next bus stop. But sometimes I just can't help it, I just can't position myself so I can see both roads, and so I pace. Oh dear g-d.

She was very nice, and once she was on the bus, she was just another person going to work.

This morning I somehow forgot that the 15 minute walk to the chiropractor had just about rendered me into a walking zombie twice, and thought it would be good to walk to work. Ha!

First, a half a block from the house, I slipped on some black ice. Back home, we just called it ice. Ice being what happens when roads are wet, and then it freezes. Anyways, here, it's black ice, I guess because regular ice is self-evident whereas black ice is sneaky. It's duplicitious.

Anyways, I didn't go down, I just made a note about it. About at that point, I noticed that my legs were hurting. From walking.

I've been a little daffy lately, and there was no bus in sight, so, for whatever reason, I kept walking, even though I was in pain. Stoopid.

I slipped again, and this time, almost hit the ground. And finally, I stopped walking and then I really needed to sit down. Luckily, the bus came then too.

Posted at December 21, 2006

Comments

Oh honey - I hope you feel better soon! Hugs.

Posted by: neca at December 22, 2006 6:51 AM

Bummer. :(

For what it's worth, "black ice" is a particular kind of ice; it's half-melted ice, ice that is near-freezing. It's called black because it is dark due to the partial melting, looking like a puddle of water instead of ice - it is several times more slippery than regular ice, which is what makes it so dangerous. Ice below zero actually starts to get a bit sticky.

We get black ice in western Oregon a lot because we have so much rain and our freezing temperatures are more often near the 32 degree mark.

Posted by: Chriss Pagani at December 31, 2006 10:05 AM