To date, I am a firm believer that the act of a cyclist falling down at a stoplight is one of upmost amusement. Absolutely nothing is funnier than an absolutely ripped cyclist, riding a carbon fiber bike thinking he's all badass in his racing jersey and white shoes and Rudy Project sunglasses, toppling over while at a dead stop.
All too often I'm the person laying on her ass in the middle of the road. Granted, don't have white shoes (a privilage left to the speed demons), a carbon fiber bike (sigh), and I am nowhere near a badass, but I do have the scars to prove I have hopped, skipped, and jumped over those cyclist milestones.
Today, while waiting for my fellow cyclist extraordinaire to awaken from her slumber, more like coma, I waited outside her gate of her condo. After only about two minutes I realized, hey Katie, you're in the middle of the road and this is a potentially problematic situation. Being the avid problem solver I am, I chose the efficient route of clipping one foot in, and half-pedaling/half-walking my bike to the side walk, a seemingly simple task even the most elementary cyclist should be able to handle. Think again.
The sidewalk was a little more sloped than I had anticipated and OOP!
"SHIT, SHIT!"
Down she goes! Not only did the 3 cars stopped at the stop sign all roll down their windows and ask if I was okay, but at that exact moment a pleasant little senior citizen happened to be "power walking" past.
"OH MY GOD! HOLD STILL LET ME HELP YOU!"
"Uhhh, no thats okay I got it."
"NO REALLY! DO NOT MOVE. I HAVE YOUR BIKE"
(Please let go of Dr. Jones.)
"No really! I'm fine happens all the time!" I try to insist, all while I'm struggling to unclip my shoes and get this Doctor off me.
Thank God my spandex didn't rip, which is known to happen, no one wants to see that.
After asking again if I was okay, informing me I was bleeding (Oh really, sir? I didn't notice the blood dripping down my leg or the intense stinging, thanks though!) he, "power walked" on his merry little way, turning around ever so often to ensure I didn't drop dead on the ground from shock.
After I got up I realized the same three cars were still sitting at the stop sign. Haven't you heard of the s-t-o-p rule? Four second stop anddd MOVE ON. Nothing to see here. That's it, keep driving. Go home and remind your kids why they should stick to chess club.
Knees scraped, ankle twisted, and dignity bruised, I sat back on my bike and pretended nothing happened, obviously.
This all brings me back to my very first fall, in the very beginning of me and Dr. Jones' relationship. Of course I was "smitten" (as my friend Josh claims) on my bike from the moment I saw him in the bike shop and obviously I simply could not wait to get him out on the road to see what he was made of (Well, I know now he's made of aluminum and carbon fiber, but that's besides the point). So I'm ready and I look great, just like one of those guys on TV in the, what do you call it? Oh yeah, Tour De France....with? Neil Armstrong? No, thats space...Lance. Lance Armstrong. Right....anyway. Spandex, once you get used to it, isn't all THAT unflattering. You just have to go temporarily anorexic. No big deal.
So I'm strapped up, laced in, and decked out. I have brand new everything - and I mean everything. Looking back on it, I looked rather stupid with my unscuffed shoes, brand new gloves, helmet, water bottle, even socks. I bought cycling socks for God sakes. I mean come on Katie, at least get a mile on your odometer before you invest in the socks. Mom's taking pictures, I'm trying to get my foot thingy into this pedal thingy and I have absolutely no idea how to shift - not a big deal. I can wing this. I wing everything. Thank God my drive way is a giant downhill. The guy at the bike shop made sure I knew how to break before sending me on my way, wishing me luck.
The down hill goes smooth, there's really not much to it. The 1/4 straightaway goes great, hey, I remember how to pedal! Talk about muscle memory.
And then I came to the hill. At this point I still had absolutely no idea how the whole "integrated breaks and shifters" worked, but earlier I decided I would cross that bridge when I came to it. Well, guess who was at the bridge and hadn't the slightest idea how to get to the other side? I'll give you a hint, she's going up the hill.
Half way up I got locked up in a high gear. You know, when you are quite literally standing on your bike and, for a brief moment, you defy gravity. Dr. Jones came to a complete stop. With a, "Shit! Shit!" (Which, I figured out today, is my first response when falling) my stomach dropped and I fell sideways and literally rolled down the hill still attached to the Doctor. I came to skidding stop, still attached by one foot.
Bruised and scratched, I figured out how to unclip myself (Only about twenty seconds too late) and literally crawled to the top of the hill, dragging my bike behind me. I bled and cried. What the hell kind of masochistic sport did I get myself into? This is TORTURE. It's hot, I'm bleeding, I'm crying, my bike is already broken, and I'm not even a mile from my house.
I turned right around, walked my bike up my driveway, took a bath, and cleaned the Doctor, only after profusely apologizing that I wasn't a better cyclist. Then mom made me get right back out there and conquer the hill - bruised or not.
Thanks, mom :)
All in all, falls hurt. But looking back on it, they're hilarious and it's a must as you get faster.
Love love love,
me
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