It may surprise you to learn that I was once a crazy BMX rider. In my teens my friends and I would do daredevil jumps off ramps, fly down stairs, ride in empty pools in the winter (I grew up in Vancouver, there was no snow). Yes, I often fell and yes, I was often hurt -- I got the scars to prove it! But when you are 12, you just get right back up, bloody knees and all and try it again. Now at the tender age of 39, there is still a little of that BMXer in me. When I fell off my bike the other day, I distinctly remember loving that moment when I flew over my handlebars into the air, for that split second I was a teenager again. And of course the days after when I went out and showed off my bruises: 'check this out - can you believe how brutal this is?' -- enjoying the looks of horror, of sympathy. I was 12 again and feeling pretty cool. Now, days later when I am popping Ibuprofen like candy and slathering on the Tiger Balm, I can see the 12 year old me sticking out her tongue and saying 'na na na na na na'! Oh it's ON 12 year old me....it is ON! But maybe it could be on tomorrow? Until then, pass me that heat pad will yah?
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