July 24, 2007

One of my favorite things about cycling is the excitement I feel before a long ride, especially on a nice day. Well, two weekends ago, I had it. The weather was perfect, seventy degrees with no humidity. It was eight o'clock in the morning and I had a good fifty miler planned, through the farms in Potomac, back through Seneca and Poolesville, around Sugarloaf Mountain, and back home. I was pumped and Bruiser was ready to go.

Or so I thought.

Less than ten miles into my ride, I was on a rather steep twisting descent when my front tire flatted. For those of you who have never heard a road bike tire blow, it's a scary sound, like your bike is about to fall apart. It's loud and it's directly under you.

I knew I was in trouble. My mind flashed back to an article I had once read about getting a flat tire while going down a hill. I remembered the gist went something like this, "If your front tire blows while going down a hill, you're screwed."

So the question was not whether I was going to crash, but rather how bad was the crash going to be. As soon as I started turning my bike to get around the downhill curve in the road, the front wheel started sliding. At 30+ miles per hour, I fell into a bank on the side of the road and was kicked back into the middle of the road.

Although I was lucky in that I didn't break any bones, I had some major scrapes, cuts and bruises. I needed seven stitches in my elbow and was scraped all up and down my arms and legs.

I'm having a tough year.

Two days ago, I hopped back on my bike for my first outdoor ride after crashing. It's a tough mental hurdle to overcome, after crashing in a manner that was purely unlucky. I almost turned around two minutes after starting. But I didn't. I rode for nearly an hour, a relatively short ride, but it did wonders to rebuild my confidence.

The saying can't be more accurate. That which doesn't kill only makes you stronger.

I'm back up and ready to keep going.