It's funny how things can be going so well and then in a moment it can all change and your whole perspective can flip upside down. This week was a marking point for one of these moments of shift.
Everything was fine, I was plodding along with the rhythm of things pretty well, rowing, working, rowing, working. And then it snowed. It's always odd when it snows after christmas, you can't quite help but start singing songs like "its beginning to look a lot like Christmas", or "walking in a winter wonderland", which you were sure you wouldn't be singing for at least 10 months! Anyway, despite usually loving snow, this time I didn't appreciate it. There is nothing worse than having a garden full of snow and no time to play in it- I can tell you! Not to mention the traumas of cycling in the snow, it's potentially blinding and certainly not fun. Walking on ice is no easier either. Snow is great, so long as you have no where to get to, and people to play with. This was not the case. I fought through it though and eventually the snow cleared, which meant I could once again cycle with confidence. Or so I thought. It turns out its never OK to get complacent with cycling.
On Friday morning, with that 'almost the end of the week' determination and anticipation, in jumped on my bike and flew off to my prose class, five minutes late. I took a corner wide, and, bam, slammed into the side of an oncoming car. Having an accident is never nice, but knowing its entirely your fault is even worse. I picked myself up and rushed to the car. Luckily the old man driving was unharmed, and dealt with it surprisingly well with a sigh, a shake of the head and a "for god's sake drive on the right side of the road." I hurried off to my lesson and slipped into the class which had already started. Then my body started to tremble and I could feel the adrenaline seeping through my veins. I tried to hold it together, and then when I got out and finally spoke to my friends I realised I was more affected by it then I had first thought. I wasn't physically hurt, but the possibilities of how much worse it could have been left me shaken up.
On the plus side, when I told my dad about it he decided to come and see me and he brought my guitar! It's amazing how much seeing him cheered me up and made me feel so reassured. I think as we grow up we sometimes forget how important our parents still are to us, and often they don't realise how much we still need them either.
On Friday morning, with that 'almost the end of the week' determination and anticipation, in jumped on my bike and flew off to my prose class, five minutes late. I took a corner wide, and, bam, slammed into the side of an oncoming car. Having an accident is never nice, but knowing its entirely your fault is even worse. I picked myself up and rushed to the car. Luckily the old man driving was unharmed, and dealt with it surprisingly well with a sigh, a shake of the head and a "for god's sake drive on the right side of the road." I hurried off to my lesson and slipped into the class which had already started. Then my body started to tremble and I could feel the adrenaline seeping through my veins. I tried to hold it together, and then when I got out and finally spoke to my friends I realised I was more affected by it then I had first thought. I wasn't physically hurt, but the possibilities of how much worse it could have been left me shaken up.
On the plus side, when I told my dad about it he decided to come and see me and he brought my guitar! It's amazing how much seeing him cheered me up and made me feel so reassured. I think as we grow up we sometimes forget how important our parents still are to us, and often they don't realise how much we still need them either.
It's so easy to get wrapped up in your own little world with your own little worries and sometimes it takes an accident like this to remind us that that is just what they are - little - not so important in the grand scheme of things. When we look back at life we won't even remember them. Basically, it's better to be late but alive, than to never arrive at all. I'll bear that in mind next time I jump on my bike in a hurry.
