Remember when I cryptically mentioned that I was still here but <strong><a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2011/09/29/yes-im-still-here/" target="_blank">SOMETHING happened in Italia</a></strong> that prevented me from updating the blog in my usual, almost every day fashion?  I promised a legit excuse.

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On the morning of Day 356, I hit my stride.  It was my 4th day on the bike, and my cycling immersion training in Tuscany was paying off.  Instead of being the weakest link at the back of the pack, I leading at the front!  I am not sure if my tour group was humoring me, or if I was genuinely racing like the wind, but whatever the case, I felt AMAZING!  Lance Armstrong, kiss my bike shorts!

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We were cycling along the Strada del Vino, a picturesque cypress-lined street famous for its numerous vineyards.  Many of the vineyards of the Super Tuscan wines are located along this street.  The ride was precisely as the itinerary described:  "relaxing".

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A group of racing cyclists whizzed by us.  Fabio 1 charged ahead to join them.  I <em>attempted</em> to join them as my tour group cheered me on from behind, but no way, no how.  The racers were probably clocking 35 mph, maybe more.

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I slowed down to my original pace and soaked in the perfection of this morning.

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Well...it was ALMOST perfection.  90 degrees is a bit warm, even in a tree-shaded street.  Feeling thirsty, I reached for my water bottle and...

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Crash!

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Boom!

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Splat!

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I can't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure that I flew over the handle bars.  I am also unaware of what I hit first, my head or my shoulder.  I do remember the tremendous THUD as my head pounded the pavement.

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helmet photo

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I remained conscious as the tour group approached from behind shouting, "Don't move!  Don't move!"  I was too dazed to move.

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As fate would have it, one of the members of our group is a trauma nurse.  She quickly examined me and determined that I could get up and walk to the side of the road.  Yes, this was a quiet street, but we did share the road with cars.

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Concerned tour group members threw questions at me.

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"Are you nauseous?"

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"Are you dizzy?"

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"Do you feel like you are going to pass out?"

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Mia cugina, the mother of a lacrosse player, checked my pupils.  "They are same size -- not dilated!", she announced.

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I was coherent, so I knew exactly what they thinking.  "Does she have a concussion???"

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SuperChuck, one of the madmen uber-fit cyclists, rushed off to find Fabio 1 who was still in the midst of Testosterone Central.

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Fabio 1 arrived at the scene and asked, "Are you nauseous?  Dizzy?  Feel like you're going to pass out."

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"No, I don't feel any of those things.  I just feel like my head is being squeezed on either side."

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Fabio 1 then enquired, "Do you want to go to the hospital?  I have to ask.  It's the American way."

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"HELL NO!!!!  I am not going to the hospital."

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"Sorry.  I had to ask.  It's the American way."

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I laughed.

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Until Fabio 2 showed up in the van with first aid supplies.  He sprayed the road rash on my shoulder with disinfectant and liquid bandage.  It burned like crazy.

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shoulder photo  owie.

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The Fabios then announced that I couldn't ride that day since I hit my head.  I choked back tears at that point.  I was bummed and thoroughly disappointed with myself.  Why had I chosen to grab the water bottle with my dominant, right-hand this time?  I was experimenting to see if this made balancing easier.  WHY????

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Oh, well.  I suppose there are worse fates in life than riding around in a van with the Italian version of Matthew McConaughey.

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There

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