Crashing into unsolitude

I've been on a bit of a technology hiatus recently.  Since leaving the office, I have vowed to spend as little time as possible in front of the computer.  Soon enough there will be plenty of computer time.  So I have made it a priority to enjoy sleeping, riding, and coffee shops.  As my technology time has decreased, my numbers on the bike have skyrocketed, and the pesky winter pounds come off.  I've found happiness and solace in place of the anxiety and chaos that was surrounding me.  I have been following my heart a lot the past month.  And it has made me faster, hungrier, and more ambitious.  As May unfolded, I was psyched to race my bike, over the moon about my research fellowship, and feeling very un-alone.  I've been pushed on the bike in ways I never have been (at least on a consistent basis), I have loved the reading I'm doing to get ready for my RA position, and generally just feel happy.
I could go on about the awesome training rides I've done, how great I feel when I get off the bike.  How the magic fit-master gave met a secret 50 watts on the climbs, but no one cares.

I was finally able to test my new found strength and excitement against a strong field this weekend.  The bike got some awesome TLC, I was rested and relaxed, and I was finally getting to race with my teammate Lindsay again.  The race started, fast, and I felt good.  Like the shit-yea-this-is-awesome good feeling.  Breaks went and I brought them back.  And still felt strong.  With about 8 to go I bridged to a move with a Kelly rider that I knew would stick.  I felt strong in the break.  Three of us were working hard and gaining time.  And then all good things come to an end and I was on the ground.  Broken-bone, race-ending on the ground.  Andy and Russ came running over and I yelled at both and possibly hit one telling them to get back to warming up and go race.  I fought the medics, but much to my chagrin, was taken to the ER.  (NOT AGAIN!!!)  And while I was screaming at techs for moving my wrist, breaking Pierre's fingers while the doctor fished around in my shoulder, and nearly passes out when they stuck an injection in the fracture site, an amazing thing happened.  I felt surrounded by people who cared about me.  Friends made me laugh, and my hand was constantly held.  I have been cared for and fawned over since it happened.  I know I'm still capable of doing things on my own and for myself.  But am now assured I don't have to.
My bike has been made trainer ready (ie no shinny white bar tape, sexy wheels or aggressive position), and I've been assured that even with nice weather I'll have company.  I have a wonderful support system of coaches, teammates, mechanics, PTs, and friends.  And a hand to squeeze the daylight out of when things start to hurt a little too much.  And fire in the belly for Aspen and Steamboat Springs