Last week I committed myself to ride outside on the weekends and not whine about it. Noble plans are easy to make when the task itself is off in the future. Today was the annual Abominable Snowman Ride.
Bill calls...
Bill: "Are you riding or are you hiding?"
Me: "What, oh yeah, of course I'm riding. Pfft, are you kidding? You want to ride.....right?"
Bill: "Yeah, Abominable Snowman Ride, you want to swing by on your way there to pick me up?"
Me: "Uh, sure. You're serious about riding right? I mean, it's 19 degrees."
Another in a long line of perfect rides. The trail was icy but fun. I went down pretty hard but it had nothing to do with the ice; I was a foot or two above the ground when things came unraveled. My snot covered mitten slipped off the grip. I grabbed for the bars and found the grip just as I was landing but by then my ass lost the seat and a foot lost a pedal.
Falling face first on a pile of snow covered rocks is fine. The problem is Bill rounded the corner just in time to witness the tail end of my landing.
Bill: "You're on the wrong side of the bike."
Nice.
(smile!)
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