The rain stopped. "Yes!" I said to Mike. "We can still go for a bike ride." I had chosen the Nita Lake Lodge for their great reviews and their complimentary use of 'toys' - bikes, canoes, paddle boards, etc. Although today's forecast was 90% chance of precipitation, the skies had cleared momentarily and I was eager to take a spin through the mountains.
We got set up on mountain bikes and actually wore helmets on for a change. As we rounded the first curve, I turned to Mike with a big smile, "I've never regretted a bike ride."
"Dude!" He replied. "You totally just jinxed us."
"No way. Don't say that."
We rode through Whistler - around lakes, over bridges, through scenery we would never see in Miami. We switched gears to ride up hills. We waved to people and said hello as we breezed by. It was lovely.
After a steady uphill climb, we approached the top of a curving steep descent with a warning sign. I immediately thought back to Bali. That island been on my mind frequently. I remembered Mike cruising down giant hills on our scooter while I cowered in the back. I reminisced working through that fear and by the end of the trip, I was successfully navigating my way on the scooter up and down big hills. I came back to the present moment and smiled to myself as I started to cruise down the hill, gaining speed quickly. In hindsight, it was weird - Mike would normally be in front in these kind of situations, yet I was the first one going down. As I plowed ahead, I saw a bend in the road ahead and quickly braked to slow down.
The trail was still wet from the rain and with the combination of fast braking and wet ground, my tire slipped, swerving the bike underneath me and throwing me off. My hip and thigh hit - hard - and I tumbled forward - all in slow motion. I watched from outside my body as my chin finally hit the pavement, the impact enough to rattle my brain.
Am I alive? There's blood. There's Mike. Teeth in check? Yes. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
My tape played out. Frustrated at myself for getting hurt. For ruining our plans. For being human. Fuck, I really like it when I can be perfect and keep my shit together.
Mike got me up. My shoe was ripped from the force of the fall. We slowly walked back to the hotel, him walking both bikes, me with a leaf over my chin to apply pressure. Blood. "It's not so bad," Mike kept telling me. It was bad. Stitches. He just didn't want me to pass out. Love.
"Slow down," the universe tells me. "You can't always control the journey."
I guess it's time for me to listen.