A Splatter a Day
I tend to not enjoy riding my bike on my own. Still, I’ve been finding more and more lately that when I am on the road and trying to get into a “zone”, I don’t like to talk. Mostly, when I go out on the bike, I ease into a strong state of concentration in which I am trying to maintain awareness of potential hazards around me, my breathing, speed and focus on consistency. So, riding has become less of a social event, and more of an endurance training exercise. I’m still not very fast, and I have to work hard to keep a steady rhythm and pace. However, I still don’t like going out alone. Fortunately, Shep is a great riding companion.
The Texas summer heat has been a problem. We were trying to ride in the mornings after I dropped the kids off with their father, but getting up that early and getting everyone out of the house and ready on time was a problematic, and generally found to be unnecessary, torturous activity. Occasionally, we make it to the lake when I can leave work early enough and convince my ex-husband to keep the kids a little longer, but this isn’t often. So, what we’ve started doing is to complement the rides on the rare weekday with rides on the weekends when the kids are with their dad.
Shep and I decided more or less on the spur of the moment (ie, sometime mid-week last week) to ride a rally. The next local rally in which I’ll be able to participate doesn’t occur until mid-September, so we thought that rather than wait - we would drive an hour out to this one. This particular ride has gotten great reviews in the past, and we knew it would be a challenge. The website profiled the hills and ascents, and in the heat… well, in the heat a ride marked by a series of hills isn’t really all that much fun. But, we were ready to do it. Shep has put more miles on his bike in the last month and a half than I’d put on my Trek in the last three. He is much faster on his hybrid equipped with a cute little bell, than I am on my light road bike with its fashionably skinny tires.
So, the day before the ride, Shep took my bike up to the place I bought it and gave it in for its check-up. When I got to his place after work, we went up there to pick it up and I ended up leaving with a new seat. The one that came with the bike was fine, but the new seat promised a little more comfort for my aching tushy. When Shep and I ride the lake by his house, my bottom feels like its been battered with a baseball bat by mile 10, and this new seat promised greater hope that by mile 20 into this rally I wouldn’t be searching for an ice pack at the rest stops. While I was trying out the new seat at the bike shop, the sales guy readjusted the height and this solved an even greater problem that I’d been having.
Each time I ride, I ready myself psychologically for the eventuality that I might have to stop or start on the bike without the aid of a curb. I lack the strength to push myself up on the seat without a step that is at least a few inches high. This has caused problems on both the rallies I rode previously on my Trek. (I’ve ridden three, but we abandoned the third one when it became apparent that the weather wasn’t going to hold up. Riding a metal bike in rain and lightning isn’t just asking for trouble, it is a death wish.) On the first ride, I couldn’t stop at a stop sign. I was tired, and I knew that if I stopped I wouldn’t be able to get back on the bike. So, I took a huge risk and made a right turn on a country highway just as a car going about 60 arrived at the intersection. The car swerved to avoid hitting me, and I knew with a great deal of certainty how close I came to not only leaving my children without a mother but potentially harming the emotional and psychological health of the people who might have hit me. Thankfully, nothing came of the incident. On the second rally, I was forced to stop in the middle lane of a busy street by a cop directing traffic. He wouldn’t let me go to the curb, and so when I stopped I almost literally fell over with my bike. Fortunately, I had enough wherewithal to jump out of the way of the falling bike before we both crashed to the ground - potentially taking another rider with us.
The adjustment made by the guy at the bike shop made it possible for me to touch the ground without jeopardizing a strong form. If the bike isn’t sized properly, it’s hard to ride with any comfort at all. Shoulders, back, the length of the stroke and what that means to cadence, safety - all of that can be ruined with a bad fit. I was very worried when he started messing with the height of the seat that I would end up miserable during the rally, but that was not to be. Not only did I now have a more comfortable ride in the added cushiness of the seat itself, but I could stop and start without fear. Intersections, road hazards, whatever no longer posed a serious threat.
Shep and I rode to an Italian joint near his house to test out our bikes and make sure they were rally ready, and to carb up on pasta for the energy we’d need the next day. The relief I felt had a magical quality to it when I realized that the upcoming rally would probably be the best one yet. We were ready.
So, on Saturday morning, we loaded up our bikes, ate protein bars and bananas for breakfast, and then drove out to this little country town in the middle of nowhere with all the Goddamned hills.
We parked in a spot that held a respectable distance from registration, so once we unloaded our bikes - we had to ride a little over a half mile to the packet pick-up. It was actually a blessing that we got not only the chance for a slight warm-up, but that we were able to add 2 miles to our ride before the start. We were late enough that we began our ride with those planning on taking the 27 mile route. We felt ready to tackle the 41 mile route. Our eventual goal is to ride a 100k - or, at least, mine is. I can’t speak for Shep, but he’s a much faster and efficient cyclist than I so he will probably be ready before I am.
Shep rode ahead of me most of the time. I could maintain a moderate speed on the flats, but on the hills, losing steam and keeping a pathetically slow speed, the riders I dusted without much effort were passing me and whizzing by. Demoralizing, but also galvanizing, it’s just more motivation to build strength and therefore, speed, and therefore, endurance for the ascents.
By the time we reached the 25 mile mark, I was hot. Too hot. We stopped at a rest stop and I did my best to cool off before we resumed the ride. I was, however, determined to finish, and pretty certain that I could. It wasn’t even a question for Shep. So, we finally pushed off and tackled the next set of hills. We experienced at least one descent in which my top speed was 30mph. That was fun. The part that wasn’t fun is the part in which going down a hill means going up another one. My rate of speed on the ascents was 5 or 6mph. I’m just not strong enough yet to perform decently. This turned out to be a blessing. If I had been going faster - as fast, say, as the cyclists passing me by - then what happened next might have put me and another rider in the hospital if it didn’t outright kill us both.
Shep was about a quarter mile ahead of me on the hill we were climbing. I was almost at the crest. Suddenly, in the space of under a second, another cyclist rammed me from the side and we both went down. My scream brought Shep back. The cyclist (who told us later that his name was Richard) was standing on his bike, pumping up the hill. He was going about 20mph. He had just looked up, didn’t see anyone ahead of him, then looked down as he pushed himself up the ascent. Just before he brushed me, he looked up again and that’s when he saw he wasn’t alone. I knew that another rider had come too close, but it happened so unexpectedly. I saw Richard go down. I noted that his rear tire was bent. I didn’t see how he fell. I don’t even know how I fell. He brushed me on the left, and I fell on the left. Shep said that I probably tried to compensate to keep upright, wobbled and then fell. That’s really the only way it would make sense that I wouldn’t have just gone to the right. Richard jumped up as soon as he fell, and came over and asked me if I was okay. I was in pain, and I couldn’t talk. Then, when the shock had worn off enough that I could register what had happened, I started crying. There were at least 3 men standing there, asking if I was okay and I felt that I reacted as a small child would suddenly surrounded by attention and concern. Within a few minutes, a sag wagon arrived and picked us up. My knee was bloody, and I was still trying to process the accident. Shep rode with Richard in the back of the truck, and told me when we stopped what happened to him. I am very, very sorry that I didn’t ask for his phone number. His fall was far more profound than mine. He flipped over his handle bars and landed on his back, his helmet saving him from a serious head injury. He had small abrasions on his shoulder and rear. At the time I thought if I asked him if I could check on him that he would be hesitant to tell me how out of fear of a lawsuit. It’s a sad thing that I knew I wouldn’t be able to reassure him that it was just an accident, and that I had no intention of doing anything other than heal. So, Richard, I really hope you recover from this quickly and that it won’t keep you off your bike.
I fell in pretty much the same place on my left knee that I fell before in another crash just over a month ago. It’s also the same exact spot that I’ve landed on twice before. Once I was walking a dog, and was almost dragged across pavement when the dog spied a squirrel. Another time, I was spinning Winston around outside, tripped and went down on pavement at the same time that I more or less tossed her into grass to keep her out of harm’s way. Both times the fall was hard and left my knee in a skinned and bloody mess.
My left calf is stiff, but the skin abrasion is minor. It takes a hell of a lot of effort for me to walk normally, and walking up or down stairs is a slow process. It’s better than yesterday, and this morning Shep and I rode the lake. I think I’m going to be okay, but I wish the pain was gone. My arms flail when I walk as I try to keep my balance, and I have a pronounced limp.
I can do anything that isn’t weight bearing which is how Shep and I were able to do our normal 15 mile ride today. The anxiety I felt when we first pushed off was enough to keep me off the bike for a while, but with Shep being right there - I knew we could do it together.
