Poor Old Blue and the Crash

Bike training in the spring is always a touch-and-go thing if you're wimpy like me and don't like to ride in the rain.  Freezing drizzle might seem harmless in May - it certainly doesn't ice the roads - but coupled with wind, it can feel like tiny knives cutting your face as you ride.  Needless to say, I avoid it whenever possible.

The weather has not been cycling-friendly lately, making me low on training miles, with my 40 mile ride quickly approaching.  So, I was delighted to see that we were going to have a sunny, 50 degree day on Tuesday - the only rain-free day of the week.  Checking my calendar deflated my spirits a bit - I had a lunch date with a visiting out-of-town friend.  Although very excited to see her, realizing the lunch was smack in the middle of my proposed three-hour riding block dampened my enthusiasm.  Thinking outside the box, I decided that I'd ride twice that day - 17 miles in the morning, home, shower, throw Old Blue (my bike) in the back of the car, lunch, another 17 miles, then home in time to meet Sarah's bus.

Great plan, but a slight problem in execution.

About 8 miles into my ride, I was zipping along at a peppy 17 mph when I crossed an intersection containing a splitter island.  Everyone's seen a splitter island, but might not know what they're called, so I found the photo below online to illustrate.  It's not the actual intersection I crossed.

Let me digress here, and share some curb terminology.  There are two main types of curbs - insurmountable and surmountable.  Insurmountable are sharp, almost 90 degree curbs designed to keep cars in the roadway and off the sidewalk.  Surmountable are sloped and angled such that they can be traversed without damage to the vehicle.  Back to my story.

My ride to this point was on a bike trail filled with surmountable curbs, nicely sloped at each intersection, allowing the rider to maintain speed.  It's such a rookie mistake, but I didn't look closely enough at the ground as I crossed, and couldn't tell until about 2 feet away that I was rapidly approaching an insurmountable curb at high speed.

I was mad.  I knew what was going to happen, there wasn't enough time to fix it, and I was MAD.  In that split second, I pictured my front wheel hitting that curb, stopping abruptly, and me, still attached to my bike (thank you, clip-in pedals) in an amazing rear-over-front, skidding, sliding mess.  In the middle of the intersection.  With traffic.  So I yelled.  Not a girly, I'm-so-scared-because-it's-really-going-to-hurt scream, but an angry, how-dare-this-happen-to-me "NO!" at the top of my lungs.

And a miracle occurred.

I stayed upright.

I am convinced that in that second after impact, when my front tire exploded and my rim bent, God (or, more likely, one of His angels) grabbed me from behind and kept me upright, until I regained my balance and rode my damaged bike across the rest of the street.  I'm at a loss for any other explanation.

I found out later that the impact was so strong that it popped one of my water bottles straight up and out of its cage, and popped out one of the handlebar end caps.  I was too shaken up to notice in the moment, otherwise I would have gone back and gotten them from the middle of the road.  I found their crushed remains later in the day when I revisited the scene.

So, on the other side of the intersection - undamaged me, and a limpy Old Blue.  Now what?  Well, it's about an hour and a half before my lunch date.  I'm about a quarter mile from the restaurant, so I could easily walk there and meet my friend.  I'm certain she'd give me a ride home afterwards.

And then the wind shifts, and I catch a whiff of me.  Instantly, I realize that that plan's not going to work.  I haven't showered in two days, I'm grimy and sweating, and I'm wearing skin tight black cycling pants and a fluorescent yellow jacket.  Not really the way I want to reconnect with a friend I haven't seen in two years.

I assess the situation, and it's this:  I'm about 6 miles from home.  My husband is out of town.  My friends have recently (reluctantly) rejoined the workforce.  I have a cell phone and credit card, but no tire patch kit.  I don't have contact info for my out-of-town friend. Things are not looking good.  I call my good friend Ann, who works from home, but she's on her way out the door to a meeting. It tears her up inside to not be able to help, but I won't let her even consider it. I rack my brain for other people I know who are at home at 10:20 am on a Tuesday morning... it's a short list.

All the while, I'm walking toward home, dragging Old Blue along with me.  On a regular day, I would have just walked the 6 miles in my inflexible bike shoes and called it a workout AND a learning experience.  But this wasn't a regular day - I really wanted to see my out-of-town friend!

A brief prayer reminded me of my wonderful home teachers, a couple in their 70's who had just sold their home and were just in the midst of both packing up their house and watching their grandson.  I called, and Becky dropped everything and came to my rescue.  I loved her before, but this sealed the deal.

I got home in time to shower, dress, and fly out the door... and I beat my friend to the restaurant by about two minutes.  Someone was really looking out for me that day.  :)