Sea Salt and Whiskey

Today was certainly a day. Perhaps I could call it “one of those days”, whatever that means… because it was a day so unlike most others. I woke up to my alarm and shut it off in my sleep, waking up late. I was in a pretty silly mood this morning, making airplane engine noises as I took corners of the apartment. It’s beautiful out, mid-70’s breezy San Antonio day. ‘I should re-route my whole day and just go long board riding’, I thought. That’s not a good idea, so much needs to be done today, I wrote my extensive list out the night before, including boxes for completed check marks on the ready.

I ate breakfast and went through my day’s check list in my head to make sure I had all the necessary items for a long day out of the house. Yoga mat, PRI meeting, change of clothes, shoes. Got it, got it, got it, got it, Bam- out the door and rolling, headed to check the PO Box and grab a cup of coffee at Central Market.

This is where my first metaphor unveiled itself: as I walked out of the post office, coffee in hand,  I didn’t have a clue where I parked my car. Usually, I can recall a specific memory from arriving that can trigger me as to where I’d pulled in: a bird perched on the return cart stahl or an encounter with a nice old lady at the entrance. Usually, there is something there to hint me to the area and today, there was nothing. I chalked it up to the fact that I was lost in my thoughts and to try to be more present while I wandered up to cars that weren’t mine and did a lap around a truck because I couldn’t even remember which side of the parking lot I was parked on. “I am on the path to my car”, I told myself and it didn’t matter how many laps around the parking lot I’d do, eventually I would find my car. Such is life, I thought to myself when I spotted my car clear across the cement parking lot.

Found my car and upon entering and putting on my seatbelt, I realized I had left my phone in my apartment. Oh well, no big deal. I have to go back for it because I need to GPS my next location.  Get back to my phone, grab a drink of water, and throw my longboard into the car “just in case”. Upon GPSing my next location I find that it’s closed. Need to get on a computer, so I must adapt and overcome. With longboard thoughts continuously lingering, I decide to go to Starbucks, internet connection. Can’t take my Central Market coffee into the dining room at Starbucks… grab my reusable Starbucks logo cup, riddle solved and I’m feeling good about myself. Off to connect to the net.

I spent the next 90 minutes connected to the web with an on-going project. I completed my tasks (one of MANY on my aforementioned list) and thought I could sneak in a quick 20 minute longboard ride before I teach yoga to Vets at the VA. Non-Starbucks caffeinated up, I jetted out of there and stopped at the apartment for a quick snack and was arrived at the park in less than 20 minutes which gave me a cool 20 minutes to ride.

I’m new on my longboard, only two rides stand between me and the maiden voyage. I chose this park because everything is relatively flat and it’s a great way to build my confidence on the board, play with balance and pedaling, and the park is beautiful.  I was feeling good, got a good rhythm and before I knew it, I was about ten minutes in to my 20 minute ride, time to turn around. I couldn’t help but wonder about this “blind curve” sign and decided to keep going, just around the bend. There was a really nice dip onto a bridge over the creek and then a blind turn. Awesome, I’ll take it all the way to the top and ride this nice down slope as the beginning to my ride back to the car.

Turned my board around and pushed off and headed around the curve that led down onto a cement bridge while a man on a bike with a helmet approaches the bridge and suddenly where the sidewalk meets the bridge begins to become this large fault line jagged edge right in front of my eyes and I’m picking up speed and there’s a biker and I bailed. I got into my head, made a mountain out of a mole hill, bailed off the board got about 3 big floppy stutter steps in before sliding hands and knees on pavement. From the moment I bailed, I heard myself say, keep your head off the pavement you helmetless fool.

Warren is the name of the man on the bike and he was awfully kind to me. He turned out to be park safety riding around and he packed out a huge first aid kit and helped me clean up my skinned knees and wrecked hands. “Girl, you need to learn how to roll” he said to me. He offered antibacterial salve and bandages and before I knew it, I was back on the board, almost late to the yoga class I had to teach. "How'd it look?" I asked with a smile. He said, "I kept thinking, don't go into the creek, don't go into the creek..." I certainly fell in front of the right person.  

I rode back on my board, feeling pretty confident about getting my first spill behind me and made a list of necessities for my next ride:gloves and helmet... my hands are going to freaking hurt. I got to thinking about the fall itself and psyching myself out and I couldn’t help but wonder, what else have I gotten into fear of and bailed before I knew the outcome, possibly injuring myself or others in the mean time?

Upon arriving to my car, I was moving quickly and carefully as I was about 10 minutes behind schedule, soon to be missing my yoga class with the Vets. I looked at the greasy band aids covering the palms of my hands and pushed the idea of a yoga practice out of my mind with a shake of the head. And bartending? As I pulled out of the parking spot the sound of metal scraping like grinding teeth was the only thing that could be heard. I stopped the car mid-way through my reverse to see that the steel nail that held the cement marker into the ground had connected to the undercarriage of my car and pulled the whole thing off, save one screw.  Is this real life?

Two young men were standing at a car behind me and came forward to look and help. They didn’t speak English and the only thing I could muster in Spanish was “ay Dios mio”. One of the guys got under the car to pull it loose and with a final violent tug , the piece detached and I stuffed it into my car. My ego was taking a beating.  The violent hacking of my car by a steel nail was a bigger sign than I could ignore and I called and cancelled my yoga class as I would never make it in time.  I went home and cleaned my weary wounds with sea salt and whiskey.