It was the first day back at work after two weeks of solo travel in Vietnam. After hitting the gym in the morning and cycling to the studio, I felt like I had already caught up with the city's crazy fast pace. I had my time of silence and stillness, and now it was time to return to the noise, the madness, and the non-stop kind of life.
As the day was coming to an end, it started raining. 'Damn, that's not what the weather app said this morning,' I thought. But there was no turning back; I only had my shorts and a t-shirt, and I had even forgotten to put on my helmet when I left the house in the morning. I set my mindset to 'Go damn fast' so I could get home as quickly as possible, although I knew I couldn't avoid getting wet along the way.
I started pedaling with loud bass tunes to maintain my speed and a flickering light on the back to stay visible in the dark. I crossed Hyde Park and made my way down to Westminster, relishing the raindrops on my skin.
As usual, when I got to the south, I began to feel the fatigue of the day hitting me hard. 'I just need to push a bit more, and soon I'll be home and warm,' I told myself. So, I sped up along Albert Embankment. My gaze was blurred by the drizzle and the rush, and my mind was focused on what would come next, but what happened now was a crash.
It was too late, and everything happened in slow motion. It felt like I was walking into fire, and I couldn't walk back.
A car was turning left, and I hadn't seen it. By the time I started braking, there was no scape. I saw the front of the car, and it hit me and pushed me to the ground. I saw the wheel so close, and I thought, 'This is it; it's over now.' Fortunately, the driver stopped in time.
I moved the bike to the side, and some people had stopped to help me out. I sat there on the ground, shaking, covered in mud. I couldn't talk, I didn't understand anything, and I couldn't grasp what had just happened.
I felt the fragility of life, how in one second, the victorious feeling of speed had put me on the ground, reminding me that everything can be gone in a blink.
I felt the fragility of life and how meaningless tomorrow could be when all we have is now.
I felt the fragility of life, and It was like a red light saying, 'Stop and look around!'
And now looking back I think about this red light, the only scar left from that. It reminds me to look at the bigger picture beyond the fantasy of the future and the distraction of detail.
Thanks for reading!
…and thanks to those who helped me out in the street, and to Tim and Julz that helped me out in the gym.
H.