I had two weird wrecks this morning on the High Drive trails. I only had 1/2 hour to get a quick loop in. I wanted to get out and attempt my climb. I've been really close the last couple attempts. There's just one hard spot that I'm missing each time now: your basic rocky rooty steep section right in the middle of the climb. I'm not convinced that I could continue the climb without blowing up, even if I can negotiate this section.
Anyway. I've got this perfect 1/2 hour loop that starts by dropping down at HD and Bernard and takes a southern clockwise loop to put me on the middle trail. I've ridden this section of trail many times. Today, I made a too-late decision at a fork to take the low-road, just a tick after starting up the high road. I attempted to ride to the low trail and went over the bars. Not so bad. No pain. Bike was fine. Kinda messed up the trail there though. I hate being one of those people. I don't know why I tried that.
On to the middle trail. This is the one that cuts right across the bluff overlooking Latah valley. I start my climb with my mind focused on the hard spot in the middle. I think this is a classic error: neglecting the trail under foot while over-thinking a section later on the trail.
One second I'm grinding up the hill while pondering the hard part, the next I am tumbling down the side of the bluff in a somersault of dirt, bike, and limbs. When I sat up, I am literally tangled up in my bike: my right brake lever has ripped through my (new-ish) shirt, where it's hooked me. What the hey?
I'm fine. The bike is fine. On-ward up the hill. Luckily a woman and her dog appear. With an audience, I nail the hard part. I make it another 10 yards and blow up.
A few minutes later I'm sitting at home wondering how I wrecked. I'm sitting in my lawn chair sort of dazed and staring at my bike and drinking water. The bike is leaning against the garage. Out of no where, the front tire punctures: PPPPFFFFFFFTTTTTTT.
Weird man. Weird.
6 comments:
Don't get me started.
These little mishaps turn you into a better rider though, wouldn't you say? I haven't wrecked yet because I don't challenge myself and because I don't have health insurance. The ripped shirt is like a sweet battle scar on your arm.
John, you've done what scares the livin jones out of every biker who rides the High Drive trails: You fell *down* the hill. And lived to tell about it. If you weren't already a Spokane bike folk hero, you are now.
Time to ditch that shirt, though.
Jeff: thanks for biting your (virtual) tongue.
Michael: you'd think they'd make me a better rider. But I'd rather get better without the wrecks.
Pat: There's no way I'll ditch that shirt. Dude. It's a smartwool. I can mend that hole. Or maybe I can beg my mother-in-law to do it. When it comes to mending, patching, altering: she's magic.
I'm not the same Michael that posted above.
Hopefully you'll see this before it gets auto-deleted.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jon_speare
John, I wish you'd stop riding through my marmot snares!
Or at least reset them.
Nate
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