Fisherman's Terminal 1, Me 0

Last night Zack and I enjoyed dinner and bevs at Brouwers, a chance encounter with 2 teammates, then a trip down the trail to the Ballard Market. On the way I caught a glimpse in my light of something green, black, and woolen on the trail. We circled back and found a pretty sparkly green and black woolen hat alone and lost on the wet trail. Booty!! Once we collected our foodstuff at the store, we came out to find rain and a guy sitting on the hottest DIY bike: an old blue Peugeot frame with an 18" wheel on the back, a 24" wheel on the front, and ape bars about 4' high. He was super nice and from Michigan. He'd lost his old bike and this one came into his life for free. It was such a cute pairing it totally made my night.

Over the Ballard Bridge in the rain. We were heading down the ramp to Fisherman's Terminal when suddenly Zack stopped cold in front of me and all I could do was slam on the brakes, which were useless coated in fresh rain on slick pavement. I swerved around him so not to slam into his rear, but on the other side was met with one of Fisherman's Terminal's finest - a spaced-out bum on a rickety bike going uphill. As I hurled towards him knowing there was no chance of stopping, I prepared myself and thought, "This is gonna hurt."

I plowed into the bum and knocked us around. We ricocheted off each other and the railings on either side that kept us from bouncing into the street. After my abrupt stop, he started apologizing and Zack started scolding him for not looking up or paying attention to who else was on the trail. I didn't really hear what they were saying because I was staring at my left arm, which was quickly seizing up and beginning to throb. The old guy smelled of really bad cologne. I poked at Zack to move him along, away from this useless argument. I walked down the rest of the hill and mounted my bike for the one-handed ride up the other hill home.

After a night of icing and a morning of teammates playing Mom, I went to the Ballard Swedish ER (the ONLY ER you should ever let anyone go to) to get some x-rays. Only an hour later, the doc said it was a bad sprain, but that there was bone and ligament damage from old injuries that would require attention (Oh, you mean from the 2 other times I've fucked up this wrist?). So now I have to see an ortho specialist who may suggest that I have surgery to repair some bone and ligaments, but I really have no interest in this. This wrist has gotten pretty banged up before and it's a matter of letting the swelling go down, taping it up, and wincing a bit when I have to brake hard (enter the fixed gear!!).

For now it's a bag of frozen peas on my arm and a few days of vacation. And being extra wary of bums emanating from Fisherman's Terminal.