I have a new found love for cycling. It started merely as a component of the triathlon racing, but I've really developed a giddy kind of little kid enjoyment for it. I have found a deep appreciation for Lexington and how beautiful this area is thanks to my bike rides this summer through horse country. I love the green rolling hills, big beautiful trees, blue sky, horses, ducks, turkeys, chickens, dogs --- all the things that make our country roads so fun and interesting to ride.
In an attempt to go further faster and more efficiently, I have upgraded to clipless pedals. I started with flat pedals, the regular pedals you get on any bike, but heard from other biker friends, that clipless pedals would change my world. These pedals, along with cleats and cycling shoes, are all part of a system where you're actually clipped in/attached to your bike. Scary. The thought of not being able to eject myself from a speeding bike put a lot of frightening images in my head. But I did want to try it out in case it did revolutionize my world.
Once I got my clipless system in place (new pedals, new shoes with cleats attached), I tried it out on the bike trainer. Clip in, clip out. Clip in, clip out. Not so bad. Next day I tried them out on the open road. On my very flat street with not so many cars, I stopped, clipped in, clipped out. No problem.
This last Sunday I decided to take another casual ride around the neighborhood. Mike came along to keep me company and to see my new pedals in action. It still wasn't second nature to just remember to clip in and out, so I had to concentrate pretty hard to make sure I didn't fall. Rode around for about half an hour.
We came to a stop sign, clipped out my right foot and then my brain wandered. I was used to setting both feet down at a stop, so my left foot moved down to the ground without clicking out. Still attached to the bike, I couldn't do anything to stop from falling straight into the asphalt. BOOM! Sigh. Ow. I landed on my hand and elbow. I sat up trying to figure out if I had broken my arm or what was going on.
In the distance I saw a lady run my way. "Honey, are you OK?? I'm a nurse!" A blessed angel sent to peel me from the pavement. I could wiggle my fingers, check. I could move my arm, sorta, check. Some ice and ibuprofen, she said. Mike helped me off the ground and I rode back home one-handed.
I was really scared because I could barely move my arm at all without intense pain. I parked myself on the couch with several bags of ice and called it a night. Mike was sweet and handed me the remote control and later a tub of ice cream and it all seemed to be not so bad. I had visions of explaining myself to my mother in the morning if I had to tell her that I couldn't cook because I fell on my arm. I would hang my head in shame as she smacked me over the head with my cooking spatula...haha...no she wouldn't really do that. But a lecture and those searing disappointed eyes would hurt all the same.
This was motivation to think happy, healing thoughts and take as many ibuprofen as possible.
Yesterday I woke up and my arm was really sore, but I could move it pretty well. I could cook as normal, but just a little slower and without my usual zip and zeal. Now, it's Tuesday night and I think it's almost back to normal, just a bruise. But it surely rocked my confidence. Mostly because I realized that no matter how fast I race or how well I do, it's not worth it to risk my safety. So Sunday I will be paying special attention to finishing in one piece even if it means finishing last.
Last minute training plans are to swim tomorrow morning, run a little on Thursday, practice with the new pedals on Friday and then my first class of Tai Chi on Saturday!
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