Broken elbow

I just got out of the hospital a couple of hours ago. On Friday evening I was riding my cross bike on the Stone Arch Bridge, heading for dinner at an Asian restaurant and then The Seven samurai at the Oak Street Cinema. I was zipping along. My bike gained a bit of speed as a slight decline approaches the pathway. The bridge was a little crowded with other bicyclists and with joggers.
I know now that I should have braked my speed down. But I did not. It's somewhat exhilarating to fly across that bridge, so I peddled.
Suddenly, just as I was about to pass a woman jogger who did not know I was behind her, she zigged right in front of me. I think she was trying to avoid another bike to her right.
I braked and I swerved to her left to avoid crashing into her. But it was too late. I glanced off her and crashed down hard onto my left elbow on the hard asphalt. I didn't know how badly I was hurt, but I was in pain. A helpful young man with a hint of a Norwegian accent was there to help. The young woman apologized for zigging in front of me. I apologized for going too fast. When I asked her how she was, she said she was okay. And indeed she must have been okay, as I believe she continued her afternoon jog.
The friendly Norwegian asked if he could do anything for me. (There was something familiar about him. I'm not sure how, but I think I knew him from somewhere. I wish now that I would have asked him if that were possible). I tend to be ignorant of injuries. I could have my eyeballs ripped out, hanging out of their sockets, and I would say something dense like, "Oh no. No big deal. I'll just pop my peepers back where they belong and be on my merry way. Thanks."
I was still wanting to continue with my life as normal. I wanted to have dinner and see the movie. So I put an ice-pack on it, big deal. I told the friendly Norwegian I would be okay. I was going to just walk it off. Thankyou very much.
But reality sunk in fairly quickly once I was alone with my thoughts. I started walking my bike, holding one handlebar with my good right hand. I was headed for the Hennepin County Medical Center, which I knew to by quite close, actually. On my way to the hospital, there happened to be a city fire station. Two firemen were barbecuing their dinner in the driveway. I stopped to get directions to the Emergency Room.
"How ya doin'?", the fireman asked. I told him of my accident and he offered to call me an ambulance. That seemed excessive to me. After all, I've got two good legs and I think it actually helps me to get my head straight to walk it off.

I can only type with one hand, so I think I'll wind this post up. Long story short, they kept me overnight. They performed surgery yesterday, and they released me today.

If you'd been wondering why I wasn't updating my blog, I was in the hospital