Fall Down Go Boom
What a wake up call! This morning, I got up at 5:30 when my alarm clock rang, farted around with my computer, jumped through the shower, and hit the road about 7:15. It was almost warm enough not to warrant wearing my shell or tights, but, in retrospect, I’m glad I decided to wear them.
I headed down Middlefield Road confidently and swiftly, although I let my mind wander a few times and my average speed dropped below eighteen miles an hour. I fought to pull it back together. I began to get my stomp going from the 85 overpass after a really embarrassingly soft climb up and over. I stomped down Logue toward the moderately sharp right turn at Maude Avenue for my final sprint to work. I swept wide, I leaned in low, I had the turn…
Next thought was “Oh, shit. I’m on the ground.” The front wheel slipped out from under me. I didn’t even know I was down until I was on the ground. I unclicked from my pedals and crawled from under the bike. The brake hoods were bent in, but that’s just a bolt. I straightened them out and put the front wheel back into alignment with the headset.
Wow. Nothing like an adrenaline rush at 8 in the morning to bring you fully awake. After I picked up my bike, a very nice guy came by in a convertible Audi to shout words of encouragement at me.
“Get out of the road, dumb ass!”
“Get out of your car so I can slam you into the asphalt, bitch!”
Drivers, if you come along shortly after a cyclist has wiped out, offer help. Don’t be a smart ass. When we hit the asphalt, we have a sudden rush of adrenaline. And we really really want to beat the shit out of something.
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