Photo courtesy of Natalie, who likely wishes she married a smarter husband at this point.
Doesn't my hip look like Australia?
This is a picture of my left wrist and hip after riding through a puddle on my triathlon bike 4 days ago. First, I *don't* shave my legs, it's just my Danish heritage, I'm told. Second, this happened because I'm an idiot.
I have a Cervelo triathlon bike that I purchased for my Ironman 2 years ago and recently have had some time on my hands. While awaiting my Texas medical license, without which I am unable to work, I decided to re-enter the world of the fit. After joining a running group and a fitness club, it was time to put the bike to good use. So I've been riding for about 1 month now and decided that I wanted a change in scenery.
Throwing my bike atop my car I drove west and into the Hill Country (so named because, well ... it has hills.) After 50 minutes of driving I decided that Marble Falls seemed like a nice community to ride in. I parked by the high school, threw on my shoes and helmet and took off.
Now it's been a heavy rain season in Texas this year, to the point that the faithful and psycho (we live only a couple of hours from where the Branch Davidians were) probably have contemplated rebuilding the ark. It's Texas, after all. So my route had a few high water spots and streams that crossed the road. 30 minutes into my ride there was a small stream crossing. Rather than play it safe, I sped up and plowed through like I was Evel Knievel. At age 40.
As I was plummeting to the ground, it was amazing what clarity I had. No ... didn't see my life flash before my eyes or remember where my skateboard key was, but I do remember rapidly thinking "That was dumb," "This is going to hurt," "You'll probably break some bones," and "Natalie's going to kill you because you don't have any health insurance yet." At the same time, I was thinking "Jason ... this is a $1600 bike."
When I hit the pavement I felt my flesh burn and my head (with helmet, thankfully) slam to the ground. Both of my hands ached and I quickly removed my wedding ring, as I knew there would be some serious swelling soon. Otherwise I wasn't in much pain, just a warm, uncomfortable feeling. Laying in the middle of the asphalt highway like some unfortunate armadillo, I was afraid to move because moving would likely reveal broken bones. Remaining still seemed like a good option, albeit only a short-term one. Finally, I slowly scootched to the side of the road and staggered to my feet. Getting to my feet was the first accomplishment. Looking down, I noticed that both my shirt and bike shorts were ripped. Blood covered my left arm and slowly dripped to the ground. Inspecting my helmet, I saw that it was cracked and dented. The chin strap was torn off. Most importantly, however, my $1600 bike was mostly intact and seemed ridable.
Unfortunately, I was about 8 miles from my car and I had to ride my bike back. Riding a bike isn't nearly as much fun when you have to do it, just like anything else. It's especially not fun when you can't really grip the handlebars with one of your hands. Still, I managed to get back okay, and one rider in a car gave me a thumbs up sign. Either he was a fellow cyclist or he obtains glee out of seeing them suffer. Not sure.
The final damage was what you see in the picture, a possible broken (but non-displaced, I think) finger on my left hand and a $70 bike repair bill.
6 days to Munchkin's arrival. All is well. Except for all of that stuff I just told you.
