on thin ice

It is a metaphor for being in a precarious position, but this morning the old adage "being on thin ice" was literally where I found myself-- shortly before I crashed with a thud and skidded on my back across said ice. This tome could be entitled "ode to lake Columbus" and anyone whose made the ride from Oak Park to Chicago via the Harrison street route knows about the low side of the park, just east of the woods and south of the golf course. It was impassable just a few weeks ago with nearly two feet of accumulated and crusted snow. Now it looks like it often does during the wet season, a path covered with just a few inches of water at the most, with a high point in the middle. the isthmus which provides a nearly dry passage to the other side. Emboldened by my fenders and fat tires, I tempted fate this morning and thought I could ride through. I had not counted on the ice, that it was just thick enough to get me several yards out before I broke through, and that when I got past the deep part it was frozen hard again. So, the wheels sunk and I had to use my foot to push along, lucky to find a narrow strip of frozen grass to gain enough of a purchase to propel myself. The my wheels came out of the water, onto the frozen solid eastern edge of the "lake" and I clipped back on and began to peddle. I crossed an island of dry asphalt and I gained some momentum and hit the next frozen spot, which was just about 10 feet wide and as soon as my rear wheel hit the ice it shot out from under me and I found myself hitting the frozen ground hard and my bike sliding away. I was on my back and skidded around trying to gain my feet. I stood up, walked to my bike and the found the chain had come off the ring, but that was the only damage. One foot was soaked with ice water and my elbow, shoulder and butt were singing, but once I got back on the road, I was OK. The saddle bags got scraped and I got road rash on my pants, not my legs, so no big deal. I feel a bit creaky and sore, but my clothes did not tear and the bike was unscathed. Like the song says "just a little shaken from the fall." but I am not a china cat sunflower, just a sun dawg, and survived my trip acrross the thin ice just fine. I decided I better pick an alternative way home, however.

Friday the 13th-- and if that is the only bad thing that happens, then I have nothing to worry about. I feel like a man divided as the duties downstate begin to have their demands on me while I am still up to my eyeballs in work at this place. Planning the move, transfering the inventory and equipment from UIC to SIU, finishing up my teaching, while planning the start up for my lab, interveiw new hires to staff my lab and supervising the rennovations for the department is all nearly too much. All of this on top of my real work-- writing the papers, reviewing the grants and manuscripts, desiinging the experiments and interpreting the data-- the good stuff you know. It is no wonder I feel like I am on thin ice. The ice flow UIC is cracking and breaking away from behind me as I scrambled moving forward trying not to be sucked into the abyss, yet slipping and sliding as I grapple to get across to the other side SIU. Three months and two days the Hales Lab at UIC officially closes it doors. Ok breathe.