Mastering my Degree in Being a B.A.

6am Power of your Om yoga with Alex
7:30am Swim 
 9:00am back to Power of your Om with Sarah
11:30am Two-hour lactate threshold workout on bike
2:00pm Sell shoes with Nick on his last day
6:30 Stellar Nites trail 5k run with Zack, Aldous, Emily, Lisette, Kristine, Ignacio and Amy
8:00pm Pure Awesomeness weights and plyometrics

Beat that, Isaiah


I posted that status at  11:00AM, after having completed three of my workouts. Then I went home and got ready for work, clipped into my bike and rode down the street. 

My helmet.

I had reached the end of the bike path before I realized I was not wearing a helmet. I never forget my helmet. I debated going without it for the day just so I had enough time for my workout. 

You never know what could happen.

I listened to the voice in my head. Turning around, I reached my house as Yo was walking out. "Forgot my helmet," I told her. 

Down the street I rode again. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself at a three-way stop. There was a car facing me and a car on my right. It was my right-of way, so I began to cross the street to the other side. I was 3/4 of the way across the street when I saw the car on my right (which was now directly on my side) move forward. He had gunned the gas, so the reaction time was short. Next thing I knew, my right hip and bike were hit. I flipped up into the air and landed on his hood. He slammed on the breaks and my body flew forward, off the car, to the ground. I sat up in astonishment. I watched as my water bottle rolled down the hill from which I had just climbed up. 

Shock. 

What had just happened? Had I really just been hit? I had always feared this day. People in my town are not the best drivers. They park at the bottom of big hills and open their doors without looking to see if anyone is coming from behind. They text while they drive. They rush to get everywhere and don't pay attention to anyone or anything else. It was bound to happen eventually.

The shock wore off and I started to hyperventilate. I heard the words of my yoga instructor run through my head. Deep breath in. And release it slowly. I came back to reality and found my right leg folded under me, blood gushing from the 2-inch gash the chain from my bike had created. My left leg was sore and bruised. I looked around for my bike. A gentleman rushed to my side. "I moved your bike to the side of the road," he informed me. "I think it's okay."

Oh, thank God.

Then it hit me. I probably won't be able to train for a little while. That's when I lost it. All of the emotions that go along with getting hit by a car flooded my body and I wept. A woman asked if I could move out of the middle of the road and I told her there was no way I could put body weight on my leg. I sat there trying to control my tears as I watched people drive past and I listened to the man who had hit me asking for a cell phone to call his wife. He was an older gentleman who had just finished a round of golf in Hope Ranch. 

Two ambulance came and six of the most attractive men I have ever seen jumped from the vehicles. "Put her in C-spine," one said. One knelt down next to me and asked how I was. Where was I feeling the pain? Could I flex my foot? No. Could I wiggle my toes? Were they numb? Yes. 

"We will take your bike to the police station," one EMT told me. "It looks like it's still in pretty good shape, actually. A few scrapes and the power meter is broken, but it's not too bad." 

"Thank you SO much," I said, sincerely. 

They lifted me onto a gurney, grabbed my bags and to the hospital we went. 

"What's been the best part of your day so far," I asked the gorgeous EMT next to me. 

"Well, it just started," he informed me. "So, meeting you!"

Marry me?

"If you had a theme song that played every time you entered a room, what would it be and why," I asked... of course (shout out to Sophie Allen because she is going to laugh hysterically when she sees this).

"Ooooo great question. Journey. Don't Stop Believing."

"And why," I asked. 

He told me about his ability to associate certain songs and scents with memories in his life. He said anytime that song comes on Pandora in the morning, he knows it will be a good day. 

"Did it come on this morning," I asked.

"No, actually, which is strange because I was listening to the Journey station."

"Uh-oh," I joked. 

We talked a little bit more about favorite Gu flavors and the word Gu and how funny it was. We discussed his dream to move to Oregon one day and the marathon he was training for. When we pulled up to the ER, he and his buddy wheeled me into the hospital where I went a little insane. I tried to make a joke out of everything the nurse asked. I have no idea what was up with me. The driver was at my side now and he pushed me left to right as doctors, nurses and visitors tried to get around us. 

"So I heard your conversation in the back of the ambulance," he said. We talked about his piercings, Don't Stop Believing, his time spent living in La Jolla, etc. 

"Wait," he said, excitedly. He pulled out his phone and played his ringtone. Journey rang through the speakers and drifted into my ears.

My eyes got wide. "You should play Don't Stop Believing every time your buddy enters the room!"

"You were eavesdropping on our conversation in the ambulance," the other EMT accused his partney as he poked his head around the corner.

I spent the entire first hour of the accident laughing hysterically with these two. Then the nurse took over and started attaching all sorts of equipment to my body. The police came and filled out a report. I was then moved to the hallway where I waited for my doctor. As I waited, I tried to call my parents, neither of who was answering. I started sobbing when I remembered that I would be bedridden for a few days. 

The doctor caught me mid-sob. "Does this hurt," he asked, bending my left knee back sharply. I yelped. "How about this," he tried flexing my right foot. Utter pain ran through my leg. Tears flowed. "Yeah," I said.

"Okay, we'll just cut the rest of this skin that all dirty around it. Since it's a big hole and you don't have a lot of skin down there, they will be open, ragged stitches, so you will have to be very careful about cleaning it and not getting it wet," he told me.

"How long until I can swim again?"

"A few weeks," he said. 

"And run?"

"Ten days until you can walk more comfortably. Running... I would take it easy."

Gulp.

"I have a 65-mile relay in less than a month," I explained. "Will I be okay for that?"

"Sixty-five miles," I heard the interns whisper between themselves. 

"Let's just take it one day at a time," the doctor said. "We'll see how you're feeling and see what comes up in the X-rays."

The X-ray technician, who was from North Lake Tahoe, told me everything looked good. No broken bones. Yay!

The doctor stitched me up and we talked about Bend, Oregon and how he vacations there every summer. Small world. I watched as he cut the dirty, bike-chain-oil-covered skin off from the leg. He stitched it all up, reminded me to keep it clean, told me he would be cheering for me at the National Age Group Championships and gave me a tetanus shot. 

Two hours later, I was finally bandaged up and waiting to be released. Amy waltzed through the hallway looking perfectly gorgeous in her summer skirt and pink cardigan. Why couldn't I look like that? We talked and I cried and laughed. 

I heard two sets of feet coming quickly down the hallway. "Ashlee," my two EMTs were back and they were looking frantically for me. Their faces were bright. The handsome one from the back of the ambulance took the stool next to my bed, sat down and took my hand. "We have something to tell you." 

 "Tell me the good news," I demanded.

"The Pope decided to name himself Pope Francis. We heard on the radio and needed to come back and tell you that. It's going to be a good day."

Again, marry me?

I had already told Amy about these two. I looked up at her as they left and mouthed See? 

"Is it wrong if I ask for his number," I asked Amy.

My EMT friend Chris had seen me earlier, so he came by to check on me. It was so nice to see a face I recognized there, even if I only see Chris when ambulances are involved.  

Finally I was bandaged and ready to leave. I gathered my belongings and awkwardly tried to stand. My legs cramped up and I fell back into bed. I tried again with no success. Third times a charm though, right? I centered my body weight and began hobbling across the floor when my legs seized up and I was stuck in the middle of the hallway, looking straight into the face of another patient. "Amy, I can't move. I can't move."

"Let's go back to the bed," she said, patiently. 

"I legitimately can't move. I would go back if I could," I felt so awkward and embarrassed frozen in the middle of the hallway in my bike kit.

"Here," she giggled as she rolled a stool up behind me and helped me sit down in it. I hurriedly rolled it back to the bed before anyone could witness my awkwardness. Amy got me some crutches and we tried again. Ahhh... much better. 

It was a crazy day with an epic story and a gnarly scar to boot. I am pretty stoked about the scar. I've always wanted one to show off. Be careful what you wish for. 

My get-well buddy