My sister graduated the other night, at Greenwich. I went, and I went by bike, because I go most places by bike now.
The ceremony ran from seven to nine. We left around ten. Instead of going home the way I knew, I did the thing I always do and turned the short way into the long way.
First the old foot tunnel under the Thames at Greenwich, a long tube tiled in white that curves just enough that you cannot quite see the end of it, the river somewhere over your head.
Then I picked up the Lea around Bromley-by-Bow and followed the water north, toward Stratford. It was gone ten and dark. The path was beautiful and frightening at the same time. For a stretch I was on a thin strip of towpath with a channel on either side of me, boats moored in the dark. In places it genuinely scared me, but I was in the middle of it by then, with no easy way to turn back, so I kept going. Somewhere along there the path had little bumps built across it, put there on purpose to slow you down. I did not see them coming. The bike started to shake under me and it took me a second to work out why.
I got through all of it. The tunnel, the dark water, the boats, the bumps, without a scratch. Then, an hour into the ride, twenty minutes from home, in Ilford, I fell. My first ever crash, and on a bike I had not had for long.
There were roadworks. Part of the road was shut and part of the cycle lane with it. I rode the bit of lane that was still open until that closed too. To get round it I went to hop up onto the pavement, planning to drop back onto the open side of the road further along. I never made the pavement. It sat higher than I judged, the wheel slid off the edge of it, and I went down. My head hit the ground. So did my shoulder and my hip.
I was wearing a helmet. I always leave home with it on, that part I have made automatic. On hot days and hot nights I take it off somewhere in the middle of the ride and clip it to the bike or the bag, and on those stretches I go slower and more carefully, as if that squares it. That night it was still on my head when I went down. I felt nothing where my head met the road. The helmet took all of it.
I sat there a second, more shaken than hurt. A few people came over quickly to check I was alright, which was kind. Nothing of mine was broken. The only thing that broke was the helmet, and Trek replace it free after a crash, so I am picking the new one up on Saturday, from their shop in Battersea. I got up, got back on, and rode on to Sultan, my usual Turkish place in Ilford, got some food, and went home.
This morning my shoulder aches. I took a couple of ibuprofen and cycled to work anyway.
