Some may remember a few weeks back when I mentioned the impending acquisition of a nifty little electric vehicle called a Onewheel. To the uninitiated, this is some kind of hybrid between a unicycle and an electric skateboard. They’re expensive and dangerous, yet neither of those things slowed my proverbial roll– or float as they call it in the Onewheel community. It arrived on a Monday.
I found it only took a day to get the hang of the basics and by Tuesday, I was riding up and down our street with increasing confidence. By Wednesday, I used it to make the approximate mile ride commute to work. I was having so much fun, I even took the long way home just to get in some extra ride time. By that evening, I just had to show and tell someone about this amazing new hobby. I was “all in” after only three days. It was there, at one of my closest friend’s homes, that I came to a very painful reality…
I didn’t have near the mastery– or even basic fear and respect for this contraption– that I thought I did.
After giving my buddy a turn, I decided I would show him what a seasoned rider who had owned the thing for a full 72 hours could do. I mean, I had already logged a whopping 9 miles of around-town cruising! It was approximately 9:00 PM and pitch-black dark in front of his house as I hopped on. In the blink of an eye, I jumped from 5 to 10 miles per hour then equally as quickly from 10 to 15. Thanks to the handy Onewheel iPhone app, I can tell you it was at precisely 17.7 miles per hour that I failed to notice the pushback indicating I needed to slow down and as the board performed an immediate and exquisite nosedive, I took flight.
I landed shoulder first, only mildly scraping an elbow and an ankle. Jumping back up, I assured my friend that I was ok. At least I thought I was ok. After a brief pat-down of my persons, I discovered an alarming protuberance where my left clavicle was supposed to be. I was certain this deformed object trying to escape from inside my fragile ginger skin was some type of heinous fracture, and before long the emergency room confirmed my suspicions.
I walked out with a sling, a prescription for hardcore pain meds, and a wicked x-ray. A week later the orthopedic specialist informed me the break was too complicated to attempt surgery, and so here I sit under the influence of a steady diet of Percocet, making regrettable Amazon purchases, and watching the Jason Statham flop-buster, The Meg, for a second time– waiting on this collarbone to heal so I can finally get back on my beloved Onewheel.
Yes, despite numerous offers from people eager to relieve me of this sophisticated injury machine, and much to the chagrin of certain friends and family, I’m not done with it just yet. As Bob Ross once said, “As long as you’re learning, you’re not failing.” Luckily, with over 200 bones in the human body, I’ve got plenty of time to get really good at not failing.