Just two blocks earlier, I'd ridden past a friend, doing a double-take at her back to try to confirm it. I'd concocted a route to my doctor visit that involved hills that were steady, but not steep. The day, after all, was still hot even if it couldn't hold a candle to the one before it.
The casualties weren't all that bad, really. A bloodied elbow. A ruined pair of patterned tights. A bent heel on the pumps I was wearing -- a pair I was already thinking might be on their last wear. I collected the bicycle and my possessions off the street, then released the front brakes so the bent wheel which took me down could still turn, and rode the remaining third or so of the 8 mile trip to the appointment on the now-crippled bicycle.
After repairs later in the afternoon, the ride to my next stop afforded me a few mildly-steamy minutes to think. After a discussion about where I was relative to what I was looking for with hormone replacement therapy that morning, the ways in which I was still falling short fell into a stark contrast.
But just as I hadn't let the tumble pull me off my game, I was determined that neither would this. I am certainly not where I hope to be, but I realized as I pushed myself along toward my next appointment that I had no idea when things would be done, and there could be no waiting. The life I have is mine to cherish every moment of. But it means I can't wait for eventual perfection. I have to work with where I am and what I have.