The other day I was thinking about how proud of myself I was for making it through the whole winter without one crash, that was stupid.
My heart soared as I powered into a light headwind this morning sans studs, rolling light and fast. My favorite song blasted in my head as I waved to my fellow commuter buddy, Doug who was headin' the other way. Shortly after exchanging pleasantries with Doug I entered a downhill, sweeping left hander that crossed an intersection. This left hander sits low in a geographic saddle of Duluth's hillside and is notorious for being much cooler than the surrounding area. The difference in temperature was the last thought in my mind as I checked for traffic and slung myself into the turn. Time stood still as I tried to process the bizarre feeling of my front wheel slowly washing out of the turn. I want to tell you what I was thinking, but there was nothing, just dead air in my head. It's like I did nothing to stop it, was there anything I could do? Rather than make some type of preventative move I simply stayed clipped in and allowed the road to pull me down like a magnet. The impact was so great that my neck whiplashed like one of those fire hydrant rods (indicating the fire hydrant is under the snow bank) being let go after it was held to the ground by a kid waiting for the bus. The bike rang off the asphalt like it was shot from a cannon, while I slid like a shuffle board puck across the intersection into the waiting ditch.
Shaken, I gathered myself on the side of the road while a soccer mom slowly passed, eyes agape, talking on a cell phone from her S.U.V.
I'm gonna have to ask Salsa for some more bar tape - this stuff is TRASHED. You should see my hip, it looks like the tape.
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