I wish I had pictures for you, but I don't. All I have is a whiny story. So here goes:
Last Sunday I was set to ride with my new friend Sam. (Sam's fast. As a testament to his fastness, Sam did a long run before we met up to ride. I met Sam at George's going away party-- since you asked and all) I haven't really ridden much since moving to St. Louis, which seems wrong because the roads are littered with cyclists. I could easily write a very long post about how the mid-sized midwest kicks the rest of the country's butt, but I'm still trying to convince myself that I don't love St. Louis. I think it may be too late though-- there's a reason I came back, right? Anyway, Sam was gonna show me the ropes of riding in the Lou.
So we set out. From my front door. Our pace was pretty leisurely, which relieved me since I was being characteristically freaked out, worried-I'm-too-slow Mishele. After about 12 miles we turned around to head home, and at 20 miles we stopped at a gas station so Sam could get a snack; apparently it's not fun to do a long run then ride around without having something to eat. So we stop, he eats, we go to get back on the road...
and I fall over. Going 1 mile an hour. I surprisingly ended up with nary a scratch, but I did pick up the nastiest bruise I've had in recent memory in the middle of my thigh. It'd be a pretty picture to add to this post since it's so many pretty colors-- red, brown, magenta, purple, indigo, blue. If I didn't know better I would have thought that when I fell I was really just putting a painful temporary tattoo on myself.
The rest of the ride was fine-- I successfully clipped in and out at every light (no small feat because there are a lot of lights-- I need to offer some defense here), we got home, my pride still hurt, and I buried myself in my books. But as I was heading to bed it occurred to me that my history of first impression is falling over. My first ride ever with Greyhound I tipped over at my car after 70 miles of success. K saw every time the bollards in George Bush Park got the best of me this spring. My first ride on Lucy ended in a fall right in front of the start line of the first crit race at the Picnic Loop. What the heck? Do you have any idea how often I've replaced my freaking bar end tape? (both sides currently need it now but I'm too cheap to buy more.) Why can't I ride like I do all the times I'm alone, all the rides with friends? Some impression I make-- both on my new friends and my body. :-(
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7 comments:
Vertical. Not all it's cracked up to be. My story, and I"m sticking to it!
I can you be so coordinated to have such a sweet swim stroke and yet so clutzy you can't manage to clip out? You're an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, surrounded by a riddle.
"the roads are littered with cyclists"
Well, you've now supplied a mental image for that....
Ahh, the old "dead animal fall over" almost worse than a full out crash/superman over the handlebars because it's kind of underwhelming. I feel your pain, Michelle, for I have Dead animal dropped about three times.
oh mishele, do you need training wheels?
apparently sam didn't care, because he usually informs me of every funny incident, no matter how small. but now i'm pissed at him because that sounded hilarious!
You're not alone in this. Though I'm not as prolific as you seem to be, low speed, high-visibility falls are my specialty. There are rarely any injuries to speak of - unless you count the side-splitting laughter of witnesses.
If your training routes involve too many lights to stop at, it might be worth changing your pedals & shoes for MTB ones (just for training). Having grippy soles that don't just slide off the pedal when you don't clip in perfectly, and double-sided pedals make things a whole lot easier. Might not look so cool, but you can't have everything!
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