Never a dull day.

Last summer, we bought dirt bikes and got into the most rednecky hobby I never envisioned myself doing (and loving!). We rode several times last summer and even rented my brother a bike so he could ride with us when he came to visit in September. Riding season ended on that trip to Mormon Lake, though, when Che crashed on the last run of the day and broke his humerus.

His recovery has been slow but he was finally feeling well enough to head back out on the bikes. Soooooo, we rented a cabin up at Mormon Lake, invited our friend Jay to join us, and met up with friends Sharon & Rick (who camp nearby) for weekend riding. Unfortunately, a day of downpouring rain on Friday left the trails muddy, slippery, and downright tough to ride. On our first run of the day, Che's bike slipped in the mud and he managed to ram his right foot (in its hardcore boot) against a tree stump and then pin it between the stump and his bike. He said it was painful but that didn't stop him from riding the rest of the day. We got a full (HARD) day of riding in on Saturday and finally called it quits when we were all muddy and exhausted (and Sharon beat up from somersaulting over her handlebars to land on a bed of rocks).

When Che finally managed to pull his boot off, his foot swelled up like a balloon and he could barely walk on it. Not good. He still managed to drive us home on Sunday, but standing and doing stuff on it all day swelled it up to the point it looked like he had gout. I was convinced it was broken but he insisted it was just soft tissue damage, claiming "I wouldn't be able to walk on it if it were broken." Um, you're not walking so good on it if that makes a difference.

He was in quite a bit of pain this morning, so he decided to go to the doctor, who immediately said "yeah, that looks really bad although I don't think anything is broken" and referred him for an x-ray. In the meantime, I had to play chauffeur since he could no longer drive on it without excruciating pain. The x-ray tech couldn't officially read the film but did say, "something doesn't look right" and promptly sent him back to his doctor with copies of the film. And then he got the call this afternoon: "you broke your fibula." Just call me Dr. Eva and let me gloat, "I told you so."
So the official dirt bike bone breaking count for Che: humerus, fibula. In less than a year. I'm sure his orthopedist (how sad is it that he even HAS a regular orthopedist?!?!) will just shake his head tomorrow and sigh. And maybe suggest a more passive hobby, like hiking.

Here he is midday, on a break we took to reattach my fender (which flung off the front of my bike during a ride). From the smile on his face, he obviously has no idea what's to come.

And here's what a foot looks like when your fibula is broken: