Beware Lurking Potholes

I commute to work by bicycle two or three days a week year-round. Riding a bike for me is like therapy. It slows me down and helps me deal with the hectic pace of life. Last week on the trip home, I hit a "hidden" pothole covered with water -- scraped up my face and neck, and broke my hand in three places. The ironic thing is that just a few days prior, two good friends of mine warned me about the dangers of riding while there was still so much snow and so many potholes cropping up. I took an arrogant approach: "I ride year round! A little snow won't slow me down!"

The evening I fell several folks slowed down to gawk at the scene, but I was helped by two people: a woman I never met (named Leigh) stopped to drive me to the St. Joe's ER, and one of the men in my small group (Bill) happened to be working in that ER the same night. She dropped me off, and he took care of me. In fact, he made sure that I got home along with my glasses which I lost in the fall, my prescriptions which I forgot at the hospital, and my bike which was left at the side of the road. This took him separate trips, and probably several hours of driving.

It was humbling to see how Leigh and Bill were ready to help (above and beyond) without hesitation, but I am learning that accepting help really is just as important as being willing to help. Accepting the help of good advice would have saved me some anguish. We need each other. Not just in crisis, but all the time.