Mountain Biking: Senor Pain Jumps...
...out of the frickin' forest and chucks me ass over shoulders down a steep trail this morning... Maybe it was a half gainer, shit, I had about a quarter of a second to analyze the situation).
OK, you'd think I would have learned something from the event on Saturday, right?
Wrong.
Did I take my cell phone with me, like I promised I would after seeing how helpful they were yesterday to call ambulances for hurt dudes. I had it in the truck when I got there to ride this morning. I got my bike out of the back of my Tundra, cell phone in hand, then I try to find a place to put it.
There is no place to put my cell phone. Damn.
Fanny packs seems a little 'weird' to me, and I don't have a camel pack for water yet, they have those lil mesh pockets hoobs to put stuff in. Like keys.
Or a cell phone.
My shorts don't have pockets, either. What to do... what to do...
Trying to hang it on the tie string of the padded pull over seat cushion is a no go. Thought maybe I could flip the cell phone cover open and clip it like a clothespin over. No way at all that was working.
"Crap. OK, I'll just leave it then."
I toss the phone back in the truck, lock it, mount up the bike, and off I go.
The trails are great about 7:30 in the morning, fairly quiet, a few other riders out. I get to the spot where Larry bit it yesterday, go down it (maybe a little more cautiously, sure), no worries.
I get past the 3.5 mile mark, fill up with water, keep going, the trail past that point is somewhat tougher, not a big deal though. I'm not that big of a badass as far as mountain bikers go, so I'm not exactly setting new land speed records out there.
(Cut me some slack on this, I only started riding trails a couple of months ago.)
So, I'm cruising along, then I come to this downhill trail, it's probably no more that a 45% angle down, but it is sort of long and rocky, ragged grooves in it. So I get a little speed up, feeling confident in myself.
Looking back at it, I was probably going too fast. Yeah.
I'm about halfway down, and it suddenly occurs to me that I'm not really on my bike anymore. In mid-air, I think and may even utter the words, "Shit! Shit!" I think the second 'Shit!' was as I deftly slammed my forearms to the ground and roll left, crashing my lower back ribs (baby back ribs... mmm...) onto a really hard, lumpy stone on the ground.
Hopping to my feet faster than I believe possible after that little stunt, I suddenly really feel the pain in back. Ouch, yeah, it is hurting. My beady eyes dart side to side, listening.
OK, cool. Nobody else saw that little bit of amateur gymnastics. Good.
Wow, my back is hurting. I'm thinking about my cell phone now and how it is in my truck over 4 miles away.
It is really quiet out there.
The pain isn't quite as bad as it should be if something is really jacked up, so I slowly stand up straight. My forearm is bleeding some and my back is talking to me now, wondering what the hell is going on.
I look around, my bike is just laying there, laughing at me, no worse for wear. As I pick it up, I give it a shake to see if any parts, mine or its, fall off. All clear.
This is the point of the ride where I decide to take that as getting off with a warning, and figure I'd better not tempt fate further for today and just head back. Amazingly enough, I suffer no more hills trying to re-enact Custer's Last Stand on me or my bike.
I wish I would have taken a Before/After picture, I've only taken an After photo of my arm and back. This morning, they just looked scraped up, but about 12 hours later, I am officially Super Bruised on both arm and back.
What did I learn from all this?
Don't worry if a fanny pack looks sort of ghey, wear it just so you can carry a phone, because you never know when Senor Pain is jump out at you.
(I'll post pics of my arm and ribs tomorrow.)
OK, you'd think I would have learned something from the event on Saturday, right?
Wrong.
Did I take my cell phone with me, like I promised I would after seeing how helpful they were yesterday to call ambulances for hurt dudes. I had it in the truck when I got there to ride this morning. I got my bike out of the back of my Tundra, cell phone in hand, then I try to find a place to put it.
There is no place to put my cell phone. Damn.
Fanny packs seems a little 'weird' to me, and I don't have a camel pack for water yet, they have those lil mesh pockets hoobs to put stuff in. Like keys.
Or a cell phone.
My shorts don't have pockets, either. What to do... what to do...
Trying to hang it on the tie string of the padded pull over seat cushion is a no go. Thought maybe I could flip the cell phone cover open and clip it like a clothespin over. No way at all that was working.
"Crap. OK, I'll just leave it then."
I toss the phone back in the truck, lock it, mount up the bike, and off I go.
The trails are great about 7:30 in the morning, fairly quiet, a few other riders out. I get to the spot where Larry bit it yesterday, go down it (maybe a little more cautiously, sure), no worries.
I get past the 3.5 mile mark, fill up with water, keep going, the trail past that point is somewhat tougher, not a big deal though. I'm not that big of a badass as far as mountain bikers go, so I'm not exactly setting new land speed records out there.
(Cut me some slack on this, I only started riding trails a couple of months ago.)
So, I'm cruising along, then I come to this downhill trail, it's probably no more that a 45% angle down, but it is sort of long and rocky, ragged grooves in it. So I get a little speed up, feeling confident in myself.
Looking back at it, I was probably going too fast. Yeah.
I'm about halfway down, and it suddenly occurs to me that I'm not really on my bike anymore. In mid-air, I think and may even utter the words, "Shit! Shit!" I think the second 'Shit!' was as I deftly slammed my forearms to the ground and roll left, crashing my lower back ribs (baby back ribs... mmm...) onto a really hard, lumpy stone on the ground.
Hopping to my feet faster than I believe possible after that little stunt, I suddenly really feel the pain in back. Ouch, yeah, it is hurting. My beady eyes dart side to side, listening.
OK, cool. Nobody else saw that little bit of amateur gymnastics. Good.
Wow, my back is hurting. I'm thinking about my cell phone now and how it is in my truck over 4 miles away.
It is really quiet out there.
The pain isn't quite as bad as it should be if something is really jacked up, so I slowly stand up straight. My forearm is bleeding some and my back is talking to me now, wondering what the hell is going on.
I look around, my bike is just laying there, laughing at me, no worse for wear. As I pick it up, I give it a shake to see if any parts, mine or its, fall off. All clear.
This is the point of the ride where I decide to take that as getting off with a warning, and figure I'd better not tempt fate further for today and just head back. Amazingly enough, I suffer no more hills trying to re-enact Custer's Last Stand on me or my bike.
I wish I would have taken a Before/After picture, I've only taken an After photo of my arm and back. This morning, they just looked scraped up, but about 12 hours later, I am officially Super Bruised on both arm and back.
What did I learn from all this?
Don't worry if a fanny pack looks sort of ghey, wear it just so you can carry a phone, because you never know when Senor Pain is jump out at you.
(I'll post pics of my arm and ribs tomorrow.)
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