I had my first “oh shit” moment on the road bike today. After a wonderful 40-minute ride that overly inflated my confidence in my ability to handle clip-ins, I found myself wrecked and pinned under my bike—in my own driveway. I yelled for the neighbors, but was kind of glad when I got no response. Embarrassment and pain were of fairly equal measure before the blood even started flowing.

The fall came from stupidity, but it scared the hell out of me and taught me a lesson I won’t forget. My house is on a steep hill, and I wanted one last, quick rush of powering up a hill before I left the great outdoors for the overrated indoors. I challenged the driveway hill with more effort than I intended, and quickly found myself facing the chain link fence at the top. Great, I thought, as I slowed the bike. Just turn your heel to the outside, and your shoe will pop right out of the pedal, and… it didn’t.

I had nowhere to go but sideways and down. I felt like a redwood crashing to the ground, and with both of my feet still locked into the pedals, I twisted awkwardly in a panic reminiscent of those dreams where you try to run but your feet won’t go. The first impact was my right hip on the concrete, quickly followed by my right hand, elbow, shoulder, and knee.

When I saw the bike pinned down on my body and realized I was still locked into the pedals, I yelled for the neighbors. It was a half-hearted yell, and by its wimpy volume, I consciously realized what I subconsciously already knew: I’d gotten myself into this mess, and I needed to get myself out.

The first order of business was assessing my hip. It hurt terribly much, and I instantly thought of the broken hips I’ve been studying in school. Once I decided the hip was intact, I took off my helmet, pulled my water bottle from its cage, and tried to calm my dogs, who were going nuts on the other side of the fence. I took a sip of water, stared at the bike, and wondered how to get my feet loose.

As with all traumatic events, big and small, there’s a time period where you don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I got my feet free, but I did, and then I somehow pushed the bike away, heaved myself up, and took off those damned cycling shoes. The bike and I looked equally trashed—not too bad, but both would’ve rather the crash not happened.

I’m quite sure that a throbbing, hit-by-a-truck feeling will set in tomorrow morning, but for now, I say this to all you rookie cyclists out there—what those veterans told us, that crashing is inevitable—is true. And yes, when you’re falling, it feels like the scariest moment of your life. But once you’re picking up the pieces, it’s not so bad.

I was lucky, and I hope you are, too. Keep riding, friends. Tipping over in our driveways is what keeps us honest. If we aren’t occasionally reminded of our mortality, we might not remember how good it feels to be alive and able to pedal.

A 45-minute run through in the rain reminded me to pay attention to the finer points in life.

5. Flattery and human kindness. I noticed an SUV slowing down at an intersection in front of me, and figured the driver was probably lost. As I got closer, I heard his transmission clunk into park, and then the driver’s door opened. A fetching fellow wearing snazzy clothes stepped out and very cutely (and awkwardly) asked, “Do you, um, need, uh, a ride back or something?” He pointed at the sky. “Cause I mean, it’s raining…” I thanked him and refused his offer, briefly explaining that I was getting soaked on purpose. He drove away, and I smiled like a schoolgirl until the next steep hill. Sure, he could’ve been a serial killer, but the flattery felt good, especially since I’m still alive to write about it.

4. Freedom. Heavy rain and cloud-cover offered a break from sweltering summer heat. Being the only pedestrian in sight made me feel insane, but in a good, fun way. I embraced freedom because I chose to get out and run like I’d hoped to all day, even though the storm tried its best to convince me to stay on the couch. I did, however, wait until there was no lightning in sight. I like to feel free, not fried.

3. Indulgence. Waffle Cone Wednesday didn’t turn into gut rot after I ran off some of the calories. I had a scrumptious blend of peanut butter and vanilla in my cone, and running made me feel completely justified in my choice to gobble down the frozen yogurt and every speck of cone.

2. Trees. There’s no gentler, more beautiful tear than the one that rolled off a magnolia leaf and down my cheek. The water was cool and clean and earthy. A simple offering from a tree felt like a priceless gift from a wise old soul.

1. Appreciation. I saw more of the world around me than I could’ve ever seen had I peered through a window. As I flew through my favorite park—really, running felt like flying today—I couldn’t believe what a perfect rainbow arched across the landscape. Maybe people thought I was a slightly off-shade leprechaun in my high-vis shirt, but I didn’t care. The few cars around me drove through raindrops and away from what looked like an artist’s rendering of a classic rainbow. I knew that even if they looked out their windows and saw it, I had the better view. The rainbow seemed to drop one of its sides into the bayou, and I gleefully ran toward the bridge to see if it really did fall into the water. It didn’t, but as I crested the bridge, pelicans soared over my head in the multi-colored sky. Every bit of my slice of earth was in sharp, stunning focus. There’s something about rain that brings out the best details of life, and the resulting musty shoes are well worth a run in the rain.