Setbacks.

Round trip, the bike ride to and from our kickball game was 20 miles. After 16 miles, we were closing in on home and mentally prepared to strip out of our spandex and cleanse ourselves in a nice cool shower.

With the sun setting, we hopped onto the sidewalk to avoid blind spots in the upcoming road. With me leading the way, we hit 15 mph after cresting a small hill.

Being that we were on road bicycles we felt every bump, crack and deviation in the road. Road bikes don't have front or rear shocks. They're built to be light weight so they can go fast. And they're really good at going fast.

What they're not good at is handling sudden 5 inch drops from concrete sidewalks to jagged asphalt. Unfortunately, we had to learn that the hard way.

At the last second I tried to stop. Manda tried to stop. Her forward momentum became my forward momentum after she ran into the back of my bike.

The only part of my body I remember hitting the asphalt was my hip. The next thing I remember is a moment of confusion as to how I got to where I was. I lifted my bike off me and jumped up to make sure Manda was okay. She was.

Moments passed in silence. Man, did my hand hurt. I tell Manda, "I think I broke my hand." She doesn't say much as she is still assessing her injuries. A few moments later, I tell her, "I think I broke my arm." I look down and notice blood running down my leg as a man walks by. He doesn't offer to help.

More moments pass in silence. My arm hurt more and more. I didn't feel my hip or my leg anymore.

We were roughly 4 miles from home. Did we need an ambulance? No. We ran down the checklist of our friends who lived nearby. None of them had a truck to haul our bikes. It was only 4 miles, we would walk.

A mile and a half later, I'm feeling like I'm going into shock. Manda is having a hard time pushing both bikes. All I can think about is getting home. After a cursory check and repair of the bikes, we decide to try and ride the last 2.5 miles home.

I can't use my left arm and I'm nervous about clipping into my pedals. I ride home with one hand, wearing my kickball cleats.

Stripping off our spandex, we took stock of our injuries. My arm was unusable. I suspected it broken. My hip was an amazing array of only blood blisters. Turns out, biking spandex has protective qualities. My knee had a gnarly bruise on its side. I removed pieces of asphalt from my calf. My leg was bleeding, but didn't need stitches.

Urgent care was a blur. A physical examination. X-rays. Bandages. Soft cast. Sling.

After 4-5 doctor's appointments my injuries were listed as: hair line fracture in the elbow; sprained neck; sprained elbow; sprained wrist; broken bone in my wrist/hand; minor cuts and abrasions.

Manda, thankfully escaped with minor scrapes and bruises. The next morning she was able to have her gall bladder out as scheduled.

How did the sidewalk suddenly drop off 5 inches to rough asphalt? It was constructed without a slope or gradient. Yes, on purpose. I do not know why.

5 weeks later, I am still healing. I have another 3 weeks in the splint for my wrist. I had to get a new helmet. The one I was wearing during the accident has a chunk missing out of the back of it.

Despite this setback, we are still addicted to cycling. To quote the Terminator: "We'll be back".

Peace Out.

Something to fill the time...

With all this free time on my hands since graduation, I set out to find myself a hobby. Not just any hobby, but one in which I could keep fit and look good while doing it. The obvious choice based on this criteria was cycling. I haven't worn spandex since 6th grade and quite frankly I've missed the way it hugs my curves. But I digress.

Our first official cycling trip was a simple 2 mile ride over to where we normally go hiking. I was on a circa 2001 $120 Target mountain bike which hasn't been tuned up ever... I mean ever. In fact, I wasn't sure the chain would survive my shifting the gears... So I didn't.

Manda's bike was just over a year old and was thus categorized as the nice, "new" bike. Despite it's categorization, we were aware that her bike had a "slow leak" in one of it's tires. We were confident this wouldn't be a problem over a 2 mile ride, but we stuck our big ass bike pump in Manda's Camelbak just in case. Passing motorists must have thought we were totally newbs with the two foot bike pump towering above Manda's head. But it is a good thing we decided against looking cool. We had to pump the "slow leak" up every half mile.

Other than the continual inflation needs of Manda's bike, the ride was smooth until we hit our first and only hill. Quite frankly, I almost vomited due to exertion and I didn't even make it to the top. Once I caught my breath and my stomach settled, I deduced that I was not out of shape, but that my bike was entirely too heavy. Plus, it might be nice to be able to shift gears occasionally.

What happened next has been a blur.

Six bike purchases later (With one bike returned) we now each have 3 bicycles. This simple, fun cycling hobby has taken on a life of its own. The slinky spandex outfits control us and feed our egos. We now see no problem walking around in skin tight spandex because we feel they're slimming and all our cool cycling friends are doing it too. (which, I have to say, if you're going to gallivant around in spandex, make sure everyone else is wearing it too. People are less likely to spot you in a crowd).

Additionally, with all this time spent in shorts outside, I think I might have a tan.

Peace Out.