October 8, 2018 - Happy Birthday, Mom!

Holy night this week was eventful!

Slight correction: Thursday onward was eventful.

Story Time!

So the street I have to ride my bike down to get to the train station is a hot mess. The thing has no bike lane and zero shoulder space, so I have to ride on the sidewalk.

(Those of you who've read all my emails to this point, if your spider sense isn't tingling at the mention of my bike, it should be.)

Anyways, I ride on the sidewalk, but that's not necessarily fool-proof. Both sides of the sidewalk at rough and uneven, not to mention ridden with obstacles such as fire hydrants, road work signs (in spite of a complete lack of road work), and low hanging branches.

On the side of the road closer to the train station, there is a field that spaces the train station from the road. It is full of goatheads, which are essentially multi-sided thorns. Needless to say, these are not good to have around bike tires, so I deliberately ride on the far side of the road and cross when I reach the train station.

The only issue with that strategy is the fact that the far side of the road is lined with houses. Normally my brakes and line of sight are good enough that I can avoid the hazards inherent in such (mostly idiots who check for oncoming vehicular traffic but aren't aware of potential high speed pedestrians, such as myself), so this is far and away the superior option.

Normally.

To set the specific scene, Thursday is trash day. For some reason, in spite of a relatively wide sidewalk and a brick pathway instead of grass between the sidewalk and the curb, navigating this road on trash day always feels like I'm piloting a podracer from Star Wars I. These people feel the need to place their trash cans so as to obstruct as much of the pathway as possible.

That said, normally this serves as nothing more than a flippin' sweet mental image in my head as I squeeze between the wall and the cans, nothing more.

However, remember my normally decent brakes?

Yeah, this past Thursday they decided not to work even as half-ok as they normally do. Right as I came up on a guy who was A) putting out his garbage cans and B) not paying attention. So, naturally, I shouted an apology and asked him to allow me to pass.

He took a quarter step back and looked at me like I was an idiot.

I managed to miss him and the garbage can he was currently walking in an amazing display of dexterity and piloting skill that would have earned me a full ride scholarship to the Imperial Navy Academy (just while I'm on the Star Wars comparisons). However, it would seem that the Force was not with me, as my luck immediately ran out and the far right half-inch of my handlebars caught on one of his other two trash cans. My handlebars, and thus my front wheel. jerked ninety degrees to the right... Which, for those of you who don't ride bikes, meant that my wheel was facing perpendicular to the direction of my motion.

I proceeded to most gracefully flip over my handlebars, slammed the bases of both of my palms into the ground at high speed, bounced, and did a superhero landing (by which I mean I landed on my left side hard and lay there trying to breath for several seconds before standing up). I then retrieved my bike amid the judgmental stares of Mr. Trash-Man-Guy and proceeded to walk the rest of the way to the train station.

Upon arriving at the Church Office Building, I went to the medical clinic, where they wrapped and bandaged my hands. By some stroke of luck, I got an Iron Man band aid!

That evening I went to urgent care (an utter misnomer... I was there over three hours), and got x-rays done. Ominously, the bone over which I was tender was notorious for being impossible to tell whether or not it contains a fracture, but the doctor couldn't see anything in my x-rays, so he diagnosed the issue as bilateral sprains, gave me a pair of wrist braces (the kind you see on people with carpal tunnel syndrome), and sent me on my way with instructions to return if the pain worsened. Thankfully it didn't, given part two of our adventure...

...General Conference!

(Brief interlude for sake of chronological consistency: Friday night my lovely Aunt Andrea taught me to make homemade cinnamon rolls and I now refuse to eat anything else while they're an option)

For those of you who aren't aware, General Conference is a biannual, weekend long planetary meeting of religious significance to those who belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

If you're wondering why I didn't abbreviate the name of the Church, you should watch Conference. ;)

Anyways, I had previously volunteered to help staff the conference center for the weekend. It was exhausting, spanning about thirty-four consecutive hours with about six hours of sleep crammed into the middle. To recover, I slept over thirteen hours straight last night and am still yawning.

However, it was an incredible experience. I got to help with handing out translation devices to those whose first language was not English, because my wrists weren't (and still aren't) ready for strenuous physical activity, and it was really cool to get to see all the diversity in the Church.

Also, my braces set off every single metal detector I went through, so that was a fun mess.

At the end of it all, I got to attend the Sunday afternoon session with my dear(?) fifth cousin. It was really fun to be there, especially witnessing firsthand the devious face President Nelson made after announcing twelve new temples --- the last of which was in Utah.

Anyways, it's back to the grindstone, and things are great here. I love all of you.

Elder M Huntsman LeBaron