Scar #1 from Honeymoon #1
by Larissa A. Martin Ralph

My husband and I are grandiose fans of outdoor activities, fans of Mother Nature's breathtaking landscapes and fans of relaxation. So when my parents gifted us our honeymoon to Whistler (an awesome resort), British Columbia, Canada, we were there!

Our honeymoon took place at the end of June and summer is the favorable time to visit Whistler. You have mountain, hiking, white water rafting, canoeing, horseback riding, ATVing, 4-wheeling in a Hummer, on and on..

So as we adventured on all of these activates, we had decided to do some advance mountain biking on our 5th honeymoon day. Typically, when I go mountain biking, I carry backpack equipped w/ 1st aid goodies and water and I wear shorts and shin guards. On this slightly overcast and lukewarm day, I decided to wear track pants and left the shin guards and backpack at our suite - I guess my logic of thinking was I did not have any at the time, as I was in wedded bliss! As my newlywed husband and I began to ascend the mountain, it got fervidly steeper and steeper. Half way up, the incline seemed to be at 90% (in my view looking up) and at this time, I was carrying my bike on my shoulders, hiking myself and the bike in running shoes (non-trail runners)! These are not the type of shoes you want to be wearing when you are abruptly climbing a path of loose rocks and dirt. After about 10 more minutes of this, I yelled out of frustration to my husband that I was going to abandon my bike in order to climb to the top. You see at the top of this trail, was a gorgeous, sweeping, 180-degree view of Lost Lake and then of course the thrilling ride down.

Well my hubby was displeased w/ me leaving my bike, stating something about "..someone stealing.." it. I was displeased w/ his selfishness, for not understanding that I was having a tough time carrying myself and the bike up this trail in these shoes (my fault, I know). So after a slight argument, I left him to continue the rest of the trail by himself and I decided to descend down the mountain and wait for him there. While waiting at the bottom of the path, I sat there looking quite like the little un-happy girl I was feeling at the time. When I saw him coming down, I tried to make myself look busy, as if I was just getting back from a bike ride while he was up and away. While doing that, I started cycling in circles, less than 2 MPH. In the event, my back tire got pulled in to some deep gravel, taking the bike down. My thought was to jump off the bike side ways, to avoid getting trapped beneath it and getting punctured from it's spokes or pedals. Once I did that, I made every effort not hit chin-forward (in case of splitting it open) - that forced me to land on my shins and forearms. My elbows, hands, forearms, shins and knees stung, as when you slide homerun-style on cement. When my husband saw this happen, he rushed to me and insisted I lift my pant legs up to be sure I did not have any "major scratches". The left leg was pretty scratched up, w/ bits and pieces of gravel and dirt, but nothing "major". Then, when grabbing my right pant leg, a huge glob of blood was in my hands, which had penetrated the cloth. (Since you don't know me, I am a big wuss when it comes to blood, and I have fainted from a bleeding broken finger nail). Because there was so much dirt and gravel all over my right leg, Rob did not know if it was a puncture wound or just some skin that got ripped off.

We had to get back to town, so I bicycled 4 miles back, w/ the pant leg rolled up, and a nice lovely trail of blood down my leg, leaving a pretty red ring around my white Nike sock (PS ladies, this is all the fashion rage in Whistler). When he cleaned it up, I just about hit the floor... it looked like someone had drilled a hole in my shin. It was deep. That meant stitches to my laceration. (The doctor was wearing jeans and a flannel and Rob assisted him!)

After it healed and after we were back from our honeymoon, the shape of the scar looked like a 1. So whenever I look at it, I always think of that special time and that funny day. The story I wish I could tell was that "I was coming down the steep, grilling mountain fast, hit a jump" and got the laceration that way. Unfortunately mine was achieved in the most boringest way.

Our 2nd honeymoon is planned at Capri, Italy (lots of rocky cliffs!). So the joke is, I will have to get a scar that looks like a 2 in memory of our 2nd honeymoon. Hopefully not!

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