Hey, Nice One

Well, I went mountain biking today. It was kinda fun. Yeah. Some guy noticed I had a nice bike. Or maybe when he said "Nice One," he was referring to the huge mud stain on my chest and the bloody scrape on my knee. I mean, did someone see me fall like that? Holy faceplant Batman, ummm ... nice one.

I was going to give you all the details of the ride and a map like I did the other day by downloading the GPS data, and yep, that piece of shit (POS) Garmin GPS failed again to record any of the track data. I love that thing. I am going to get a Magellan.

I haven't actually ever ridden a mountain bike on a trail until, well, the other day. SO I have no idea what I am doing. None. Never thought to sit back on the seat when going down hill, nor to not grab the brakes in a panic. I did say brake(s).

So we left Skeggs point amidst a layer of fog and about 40 degree temps to climb the Fir Trail to do what should of been about a 5 mile loop around the Corte Madera Open Space Reserve. I started downhill after that climb and badly negotiateed a root in the middle of the road at too high a speed, and landed badly so tapped the front brake, which threw me forward, causing me to grab on for dear life, which of course, caused the front brake to really work, tossing me directly into the dirt mud like a rag doll. There was a decernable thud combined with a forced audible grunt as my chest hit the ground. I knew instantly I could have died there. I didn't hear any thing snap, but felt considerable pain as I tried to breathe and wondered, just breifly, about cell phone reception.

Whoa, that fuckin hurt. I thought. The climbing guy said "are you okay?" and "not sure," I said. I am still not really sure. I have a dent on my elbow and some road rash on my knee, and my torso is seriously damaged, but my face is okay. My lungs aren't punctured and my back doesn't seem to be broken, and I don't appear to be bleeding too badly internally. I don't think I have any broken ribs.

God forbid I should forget that I am injured and try to pick something up. Fortunately, the whiskey ibuprofen works.

I stripped off the top layer of gear and muddy clothes, glasses, gloves, and all the crap I could think of and wished for just an instant that I could smoke a cigarette.

Anyway, I did get up and ride an additional four miles or so ... including one mile to go back and get my glasses.

Some observations: my bike is sweet. I have no idea what I am doing, but am learning fast. When I was a kid I went down a hill kamakaze like and broke a bike, leaving myself undamaged; Today, the bike is undamaged. I could feel power as my legs caused the bike to writhe up hill, spinning, grabbing, sliding. My bike is heavy and the larger tires seem to cause the gearing to be higher. I need to work on the setup of the bike, but again, I have no idea what I am doing. it was hellafun to be out in the slimy dirt and getting really dirty, pedaling, pedaling ... climbing, steering, balancing, navigating.