In Reality, Frozen

I sit the day after skiing with a bag of frozen corn on my knee. I am ticked at myself for falling, ticked at myself for having to challenge myself on my first day of skiing in the mountains. More than anything though, I am utterly disappointed that my actions are resulting in me sitting at home cozied up with frozen corn and One Hundred Years of Solitude. I should be in Boulder hiking with my cousin and then finding out all about the Boulder Cruiser rides he's been raving about in his emails to me. He has intrigued me with teasers such as:

• How do you feel about drinking and riding?
• Silly attired is encouraged.
• Bring an overnight bag just in case you feel like letting loose a little.

But here I sit
feeling like sh-t
with frozen corn
on a swollen knee
writing crappy poet-ry,
Poor ME.

And then I realize that it will happen. That I will return to Colorado and visit my cousin in Boulder. I realize that I trust my judgment on my knee, that I made the right call today. That sane people just don't push an injury the day after it occurs. That my gut-reading of my body and reason need to prevail over my passion, whim, and curiosity sometimes.

And then I believe. I know to my toes that my knee will heal, that I'll make the right decisions to encourage its healing and that someday... I will ride again. Someday I will be out in this Colorado sun and wind, and it will carry me. I'll wear a costume to make Steve in a Speedo proud, to represent for us Midwesterners, to cruise the bike-friendly streets of Boulder. My spirit will fly...

The chill in my knee pulls my head out of the clouds, the ache in my butt from sitting all day says, "Hey girlie, you're here!" I pop another ibuprofen and...

*SIGH*

Cuz for today, it's corn for me folks.