Crashing to the pavement, my mind reeled. ‘I can’t believe this!’ It happened so fast. What in the world? I stumbled to my feet and looked back.
A speed bump.
It may be a speed bump for a car, but it acted like a vertical wall for the bike, sending me over the bars as the front wheel stopped while the remainder of us- the back of the bicycle and me- continued onward, hurtling briefly through the air and landing on the unforgiving road.
The bike survived almost intact, needing only adjustments to get the handlebars pointing in the right direction, the brake levers straight and true, and the brake calipers adjusted.
But the seat bent like an unhappy frown.
Me? Same thing. A few bruises and scrapes.
But my right knee? A good portion of it stayed on the street.
I skirted the first speed bump, rode past the tire damage strip, and somehow missed the second speed bump. Or rather, hit it. Oh, yes.
The biggest frustration as I observed the carnage on my knee was I just healed up from crashing on the running portion of the last triathlon.
Sheesh! It doesn’t reflect an extreme lifestyle.
More like a klutzy lifestyle.
I’ve healed pretty good.
Pretty sure I’m running the triathlon Saturday anyway.