Goodness, thank you all for the replies.

Okay, onto the good stuff: I ended up quitting my job in my hometown after six weeks because I was being pressured into tasks that were dangerous for my clavicle and tendonitis (carrying mop buckets, scrubbing showers overhead). Thank goodness I did--given how weak the fracture apparently was, it would not have taken much for hardware failure.

I arranged a sublet at a good friend's house, signed up for a personal training course, landed a job at a local gym, and moved back to the town the Nice Young Gentleman I mentioned in the first post was from--and where I was still boarding my horse.

I had two amazing housemates for the remainder of the summer--a beautiful husky who snuggled with me every night, and a very cute guy with whom I had a lot in common--including, of course, that we both had significant others.

Well, except that his had gone to Africa for two months and never called him; and mine, the aforementioned Nice Young Gentleman, was just vocal enough about that fact that he had commitment issues (when I was getting just attached enough that his dating someone else would have devastated me) that I had to keep a careful distance.

My housemate and I would talk late into the night... we were absolutely respectful of one another, and of one another's relationships, flawed though they both were. We liked the same books and would spend hours reading outside in the yard, walking the dog, watching meteor showers in the park....

Well (and I'm sure you all see where this is going), long story short... housemate's relationship and my relationship both petered off (though I am still very close friends with the Nice Young Gentleman), and longer story short, I am still living with, and happily committed to, my housemate.

And the horse... he hasn't thrown me since the fracture in May. We've since jumped our first Cross-Country fences, camped out in the wilderness, rode in three Santa Claus parades... What fractured clavicle? What arthritic horse? While my ideal horse is something with a lot of 'GO,' I can trust my old steed to the ends of the earth, particularly when I'm injured... so I guess I'll hang onto him a little longer.

Nor have I fallen off a bicycle since. My first time out 'the guys,' I kid you not, I creeped down every even slightly scary decline with both hands on the brakes and one foot unclipped. I was terrified but determined. When one of the guys suggested, "try putting both your feet on the pedals and letting go of the brakes" I shot him a "yeah, no kidding, but no way in hell!" look and my friend who had accompanied me to the hospital told him firmly, "she's doing exactly what she should be doing." Before the fracture, I would have been mortified if one of the guys saw me hesitate and followed their every tidbit of advice. After, I had higher priorities.

Once my confidence came back, under the careful guidance of my mountain-bike-mentor/hospital-accompanier, I was flying faster than ever before. SAFER than ever before. Obstacles I might have once thought scary--logs, roots, rocks--were a breeze, but I spooked and slammed the brakes and INCHED, heart pounding, through ANY quick dip in the dirt that reminded me of the jump that sent me flying.

This setback is rough in the moment, but I learned valuable lessons with the first break: how to accept help from others; how to ask for help; how to advocate for my own safety; how to appreciate my limits.

And man oh man--how to fend off all those creepy guys who see the sling and think, "conversation starter, AND she can't get away as quick..."