Kangatopia

At the grand old age of 35, it might be time for me to learn a little something about common sense. I went out for a bike ride yesterday morning. Now, for those of you familiar with Dallas weather over the last week or so, you will know how it’s been raining like a, ahem, motherfucker. Not every day, but enough to put a crimp in all best laid plans. Yesterday morning I decided that come Hell, high water and whatever else, I was going to ride. I missed Saturday, but I would not miss Sunday – regardless of a constant and steady light rain that dropped enough water on the ground to keep any rational person inside and away from the ferocious and unforgiving nature of what it would feel like to be run over by a windshield fogged SUV with faulty breaks, or even a VW bug.

So, just as the fledglings were awakening, I donned proper cold, wet weather cycling attire and left my little nest in the care of what are turning out to be far more capable hands than mine, and off I went.

My usual ride is 15.8 miles. (It’s getting to be time to expand that and add some more distance, but with winter looming and daylight savings time ending, I’m not sure if I am going to be able to continue riding as I have.) Within the first mile, I have to cross a very busy road – much like the little frog in Frogger, I make every attempt to safely dodge cars going in either direction and merge with traffic in the right lane without getting squashed. Between mile .2 and mile 1.8, we take one trail among a network of trails to get to the 1.9 mark. On this trail there are two wooden bridges, and both rattle as if they are just about ready to collapse into the creek below whenever something heavier than 30 pounds sets foot or wheel upon them. At mile 1.9, there resides a very busy intersection, at which I have come within a couple of feet of death once before and hope to never see such a quickly approaching grill of a Jeep like that again. But, then, I am at the lake, and it’s a beautiful lake for the most part. One of the best things about it is that the area surrounding it is designed to accommodate cyclists, runners, walkers, skaters, and children - playgrounds dot the landscape. It is truly a place that offers something for everyone. I have this route I take around the lake, and it can be altered to increase distance and difficulty. I could take some more hilly routes, or stick to the usual which only has 4 or 5 small hills. It really is a relaxing ride, but one which keeps my heart rate going enough to get a real physiological benefit. These rides do as much to help me keep my sanity intact as eating and sleeping regularly.

Yesterday, when I arrived at the first wooden bridge, I found that the boards were very wet. There were two kids crossing them on foot, and wheeling their bicycles along. They both cautioned me to walk my bike across for my own safety. I heeded their warning not just on that bridge, but on the second one as well, and went on my way. Just as I arrived at the lake, I found that there was a race going on and in the constant drizzle and occasional light downpours, I was one of about 4 cyclists circling the lake in the company of about 400 runners. (There might have been less, but they were spread out and I wasn’t counting.)

Neither crowded conditions, nor cold and damp, swayed me and I completed the route. As I headed home, I patted myself on the back for riding without getting hurt in conditions that would have kept me at home at another point in my life.

Until I reached the last wooden bridge, that is. At which point I decided to not walk my bike across, and the tires slid out on the damp wood. And I fell down and went boom. And bruised my right hip, and opened a new wound on my right knee. Then, after staggering into a standing position, I found that my bike was screwed up until a runner came along and pointed out that the chain was off. He fixed the chain for me, and off I rode home covered in dirt and mud and just a little less proud.

It really started raining after that. Light rains became heavy rains, and there’s a good chance the trail is flooded. But, still, the plan is to get right back on the bike and make another showing at the lake tonight. Come Hell, high water or flooded trails. My children need a sane mommy.