Pride goeth before the fall

Have you ever tried to hug asphalt? Have you ever thought to yourself... "I wonder who would win in a fight... hot asphalt or skin?"

For all of you inquisitive minds out there, rest assured--I, and my skin, have the answer to your questions.

Wendy and I took our longboards up the canyon on Friday afternoon for what we thought would be a nice, relaxing ride. I was apparently overly-confident as I approached the first hill... and decided to try to ride down it instead of wussing out and walking down. Unfortunately, the hill was significantly longer and steeper than I had anticipated.

Halfway down the hill, my board started shaking back and forth. This is the conversation that ensued in my brain.

"Hmm. My board is shaking. That can't be good."

"Yes, but I'm already halfway down the hill... I'm picking up significant speed, but I wonder if I can just take it to the bottom."

"That would be one alternative, but I've fallen when the board starts uncontrollably shaking before... that doesn't feel good. The faster I get, the more my fall will hurt."

"In any case, I have to make a decision... like... now."*

That's right, readers. There are many voices in my head.

As experienced boarders would tell you, what I should have done in that situation was try to get my right leg off the shaking board, drag it against the ground, and thereby slow the longboard down. Instead, however, in a rush of pure intelligence, I decided that jumping off the board would be the best alternative.

The following events ensued:

1. My board traveled away from me for a distance of about 30 feet (at very high speeds).

2. I crashed onto the ground and slid across the asphalt on my left leg and knee, the back of my left hand, and my right palm.

3. I lied motionless for about 15 seconds, until I could gather my senses, then turned onto my back (thereby removing my skin from the hot asphalt), and yelled "C-A-T-A-S-T-R-O-P-H-E".

4. A scantily-clad female runner approached steps ahead of Wendy, having heard my skin scraping against the ground and my yell... only to realize that I was laughing at this point (out of pure embarassment) and that there was nothing that she could do besides run the 60 feet to retrieve my longboard and ask if I was okay.

After a quick photo shoot of my injuries (first priority, of course), I summoned the energy to actually stand up and found a water source to wash out my wounds. The blinding stinging that ensued conveniently helped me locate all of my yet-undiscovered wounds. How nice.

Luckily, my car came with a First Aid kit (which the car manufacturer cites as evidence of how much it cares about its customers) with a "cleansing wipe" containing high alcohol content that feels GREAT against open wounds, and tweezers... an integral instrument for my longboarding buddy to removing rocks that are imbedded in wounds and broken skin.

I am sad to report that there has been a fatality--my much-loved watch pictured here, while recognizable, is unrepairable. On the upside, the deep gouges into the face of that watch protected my wrist from getting completely destroyed; therefore, despite my current state of mourning for the watch, I recognize that its sacrifice was valiant.

In conclusion, I know how it feels to hug asphalt. I also know who wins the asphalt v. skin war. Take my word for it, and listen to the voice in your head--the one that calmy reflects on past experiences and tells you to SLOW DOWN.

Asphalt, 1. Catherine, 0. Skin, -10,000.

*Author's note: I don't actually suffer from multiple personalities disorder.