Well, I haven’t blogged much lately because I have been busy getting out. Which is the ironic thing about blogging. If you don’t get out much you have a lot of time to blog but not much to blog about. Of course if you are getting out a lot you may have a lot to blog about but no time. Funny; ain’t it?
The rain’s been letting up so besides running, I’ve been able to get out on a ride on the weekends lately. My friend Barb is getting out with me. She is my most dependable riding buddy. She almost always is up for a ride. Even if the weather is ‘iffy’ she’s up for getting in the saddle as long as it’s not raining, gusting winds or below freezing.
We started off with a 10 miler ride just to break our saddles in easy. Then after that we thought 20 miles would be just right. One weekend I plotted a relatively flat route. So I knew we’d knock of 20 pretty easy.
It was so great to be out. I took us out west first and we had a stiff head wind for several miles. The first half of the route not only was windy, but the roads were in bad condition and we had to cross a couple railroad tracks that are in serious disrepair. But it’s all part of biking.
Our route turned us south just before the half way point and we not only had a nice tail wind now but also some nice downhill. So I made the most out of that. I love the down hill and seeing how fast I can go. Must say I didn’t get as fast as I may have later in the season but it felt great!
A couple miles into this leg of the route I was flying downhill and I saw another biker coming up from the opposite direction. He was off his bike and pushing. From a distance he looked liked he was pushing a recumbent bike. As I approached, I saw a tire strung over his handle bars. ‘Oh shoot!’ I thought, ‘He’s blown a tire.’ Then it occurred to me; I don’t have any tubes that’d fit a his tires. Then I remembered that even if I did, I didn’t have a pump.
Now that is smart. I carry two extra tubes, you know, just in case I blow two tires on a ride. But what good are they if I don’t have a way to fill them with air? Duh.
I slowed down just the same to see I could help him with anything. As I came close, I realized he wasn’t on a recumbent and he didn’t blow a tire. He was touring and he had a good sized trailer hitched to the back of his bike and he was walking up the hill. The tire over his handle bars was simply a spare.
We waved to each other as we passed and I picked up speed again.
When I got to the bottom of the hill at the intersection of Black Rd and HWY 1 I waved at the guy on the corner selling fruit. He smiled back at me. I crossed Black Rd then pulled over to wait for Barb and have a drink.
I kept my left foot clipped into my pedal and unclipped my right foot and stood flat footed on my right foot.
I grabbed my water bottle out of its cage with my left hand and reached for my phone with my right hand. That’s when my handle bars pitched suddenly to the right. Which threw the balance of my bike hard to the left. Both my hands were full and I was trying to figure out how to grab my bars quickly when I felt the bike swing to the left past the point of no return. And from a standing position, my bike fell over and took me with it.
I can’t imagine what the fruit stand man must have thought. One minute I’m standing there; the next I’m in the road with my bike on top of me. Great. I look up and Barb is just crossing the intersection herself wondering why in the world I’m on the ground!
She rolls up, “What happened?”
“I tipped over.”
“Did you scratch your bike?” (Barb is a true biker). I got up and examined my bike, which is barely two months old by the way. Not a scratch on it.
“Wow. How embarrassing!” I say.
“You alright?” Barb asked.
“Oh yeah. I just tipped over. Didn’t feel a thing.”
So I throw my leg over my top tube and get ready to take off when I hear Barb said, “Oh man, you’re bleeding!”
“What?” I look at the back of my calf and sure as heck I have a row of puncture wounds from my chain ring with fat bulbs of blood growing and about to run down my leg.
Well, thanks to Barb. She takes our her crash pack. (No I don’t carry a crash pack either). Using her supplies I clean up. But the wound just wants to keep bleeding. So I finally give up and just put a band aid on the worse part of it. I figured I couldn’t bleed too much between there and home. So I just got on my bike and rode home.
I told Barb I would pack myself a crash pack when I got home. This wasn’t the first time Barb saved the day for me.
Later that night my husband was checking out my leg and let out a whoop! I didn’t ice my leg or anything when I got home since it never hurt. I didn’t fall hard or fall at high speed. So I assumed it was fine. But as we examined the spot later we discovered there were actually two rows of punctures and a lot of bruising. It looked like I took a major spill. One that could only come from a high speed dramatic wipe out.
That would be cool. But no. If people asked me what happened, they’d expect me to tell an exciting story of speed and daring. But I would only be able to tell them about standing stock still and tipping over like a sleeping cow. *Sigh*