When Life Throws You a Curveball, Make Lemonade.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

My husband got so frustrated that he ran over me on his bike, leaving skid marks on my leg

.....or that's what we like to tell.  That's what it looked like, anyway.

My husband, Greg, has become a die-hard cyclist.  He's been riding for a few years now, and has been begging me to come along with him.  I tried it a few times, but since I only had a kind-of nice bike (a hybrid-whatever that is) and not a super-nice bike (one with approx 3 million different gears),  I couldn't keep up with him or go very far.  Greg was determined to make this a hobby we could enjoy together, so at the first of the year, he bought me a fancy new real-biker bike with pretty pink swirls painted on it and a big cushy seat (or as cushy as you can get on one of these bikes).  He begged me to get clipless pedals (the ones that you have when you wear the shoes that clip onto the pedals...........clipless?), but I was too scared to have that kind.  I had these visions that my foot would get stuck on the pedal and I couldn't get it free in time to avoid crashing my bike.  He relented, and I got the kind where you just slip your foot into a stirrup. Easy insert and release, freedom for the use of my feet and avoidance of falling over when stopping, right? Not exactly.

We "trained" on our bikes inside through the cold weather, so that I could get the feel of the gears, and so that I could get used to the seat.   Yeah, that big cushy seat wasn't feeling so cushy after sitting on it for 45 minutes at a time.  I was sore for a week after my first ride!

Anyway, time passed and I felt more comfortable on my new bike.  I was ready for the great outdoors!  We loaded the bikes on the back of Greg's truck and hauled them out to Austin to ride while we were visiting my sister and her family over Spring Break.  I rode my bike for the first time just for a minute or two, and immediately realized that this was a very different-feeling bike.  It wasn't big and heavy and steady like my old bike.  This bike was vey light and skinny, so I felt big and heavy on top if it!  I felt like I was riding a bike for the very first time!  I weaved and wobbled and made it back to the driveway, a little surprised by how different the bike felt off the trainer.  Yikes!

We got up the next day and took off for my first 20ish-mile ride.  I was nervous, but excited!  We were riding along, and I began to get very winded.  I felt pretty good about myself, though, and thought I was doing quite well for my first long ride.  We must be at least 8 or 9 miles down the road by now, right? It was about this point when Greg turned to me and said, "That was a good 4-mile warmup!  Now we need to really push it!"  Uh-oh.  I'm in trouble!

I hung in there, pushing and panting and taking a couple of stops.  All in all, not too shabby.   We finally made it half-way.  I was kind of nervous because it felt like we were coasting along, going downhill quite often, but Greg kept assuring me that the trip back would be much easier because we would be going downhill and with, instead of against, the wind.  Wrong!  We started back, and I could immediately feel the wind pushing against me.  We rode up what felt like fifteen 90-degree-angle hills with at least 60-mile-per-hour winds pushing against us, and had to cut through several intersections.  He followed me through the intersections a couple of times while he told me where to go.  This went great, just as I would have expected!  I was nervous about crossing the intersections at the stop-lights, avoiding the cars, keeping my balance as I stopped and started and pulled my feet in and out of those stupid stirrups, all while listening to Greg tell me which way to go.  After a couple of times of going pretty much the opposite way of where he told me (well, actually YELLED at me, you know, in a loving sort of way)  to go, I insisted that he go first, and would I follow him.  MUCH better idea, if I should say so myself!  Things were cruising along, and I was feeling slightly more comfortable, when we came to another intersection.  I was slowing down to stop, and was beginning to lean over to my left side to stop, when suddenly I realized that I was starting to lean to the right.  I was at a full stop, and I couldn't get my right foot out of my bike stirrup, so I just fell over.  Right there, in front of God, Greg, and everyone at the stoplight.  How embarrassing!!!!  Greg jumped off his bike and helped me up.  I had cuts all over my leg and knee.  I looked like I had crashed full-speed into a pile of glass, but no, just fell over on the side of the road at a dead stop.  Yay, me!

I recovered from my humiliation and kept plugging along.  We made it back to their neighborhood and more 90-degree hills and were almost on the home stretch.  We came to the top of another hill and the while coming to a stop I began to lose my balance.  I was again leaning to my left, while my bike decided that it wanted to lean to the right, which was UPHILL!  Unbelievable!!!  My left, free foot was useless as I fell over, what felt like in slow motion, all the while frantically trying to free my trapped-in-the-stirrup right foot.  Down I went....again, falling to the ground, foot still trapped securely in the stirrup.  Greg looked over and groaned, but quickly jumped off his bike to rescue his obviously very uncoordinated biking buddy.  Only this time when Greg jumped off his bike, his bike fell on top of my bike, which was on top of me.  I had to think that about this time he was really regretting wanting to share this hobby with me.  To add insult to injury,  there was another biker riding along just about the time I fell over.  What a good laugh I must have given him!  I was in pain, but I just started dying laughing!  Of all the things I worried about when I was riding along, falling over when I was stopped was never one of them.  We got up, finished the ride back to Cindy's house, and I showed off my battle wounds.  I had blood running down my leg, dirt and bruises on both of my legs and what looked like tire tracks (it was really bike chain grease) going across one of my calves.  Cindy said it looked like Greg peeled off, running over my leg in the process.  Like he said, "Forget this!  I'm outta here!"  We had a good laugh, and I decided that would be the story I'd tell.

Yep, my husband ran over me with his bike, leaving me out in the middle of the street, bruised, cut, and bleeding me to death.  I have the scars to prove it!  :)

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