I tried to put the best face on it after the accident, but it was wishful thinking. The bruise on my hip is healing well enough, but the right side of my chest still gives me grief every time I move my arm or take a deep breath or cough. It's mostly soreness, not shooting pain, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. I started hauling stuff up from the basement to load the truck, and had no endurance. Even driving around to do a few errands earlier was uncomfortable. The truck does not give the smoothest ride. I imagined a nine hour ride by myself up to Canada, and decided no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't do it.
I was to share a site with Shane and Michelle, but the permit was in my name, so I went online and changed the reservation to their names so they can check in without me. Unfortunately, they're already staying elsewhere on the way, and I didn't have their cell number, so I had to find someone who had it. Took awhile. It's late now, so I will let them know in the morning. I did let others know I wouldn't be there.
I am feeling terribly sorry for myself right now. And totally decrepit. The last time fell off the bike I was hurt worse, and three days later was able to travel to Massachusetts for a week of training. That was only eight years ago. Now I feel like an old man. I was really looking forward to this trip, and I still have no idea what happened with the bike that caused me to lose control. It's as if some supernatural entity decide to reach down and stick out its foot as I rode past just to fuck with me.
And I can't even ride my bike to work off the aggravation. Feh!