My First Ride of the Season

Which of course means my first fall of the season. The ride started out great. I rode from my house to the entrance of the Jordan River Parkway trail and began my ride. Here is a picture of the start of the trail:



I expected that the trail would be underwater in several places where it goes under the road but was pleasantly surprised that none of them were covered. While nice for me, I hope it's not an indication of lack of water. This time last year I couldn't pass about three or four roads because the water was too high. It wasn't until about end of May when the water cleared. It was a pain because sometimes I would have to ride quite a ways out from the trail on the highway to bypass the water.

Just past the actual Jordan River Park is a series of trails that wind through trees. Not sure what kind:





I got to the 39th South park. Last year I noticed the city was building a pedestrian bridge over the road. This was the only stretch between 17th South and 90th South were there wasn't an easy way to cross the road, either from underpass or pedestrian lights.

I could tell the sun was only about 45 minutes from setting and realized it would take me close to that amount of time to get home. But I saw the newly finished bridge and wanted to ride over it and back. I rode up and over the street and started descending. I quickly (but not soon enough) realized I was going too fast. The concrete was new and rather slick. And it was poured in a series of two sections on a descending angle and one flat. I could tell I was going to lose control so I braked with both brakes. Unfortunately the front tire was just at an intersection of angled and flat concrete. This coupled with the braking action took the bike right out from under me and I hit the concrete. I slid a good amount because it was downhill.

While I was a bit shaken, I was able to stand up immediately and take stock of the injuries. It has been suggested that I find a less painful hobby. This was reinforced by the gift of elbow and knee pads for my birthday last year. In comparison, this little spill wasn't nearly as painful as the accident last year in Moab. It took a few minutes to be able to stand after that one. Brandon was kind enough to pick up my broken bike parts and watch that came off my wrist.

I decided it was time to turn around and ride home. The worse part about the crash was I ruined my underarmour shirt. When I got home, I took off the shirt and saw more blood, realizing I had also scraped my shoulder and back. There were a few scraps on my front calf as well. Here's a few pics of the battle wounds:





I got in the shower and let the water run over the cuts for a few minutes and then braced myself for the toothbrush to the wounds. Gotta get the gravel out. After crying like that girl on American Idol (not really), I finished washing up and toweled off. Time for the hydrogen peroxide. That's when I really cried (mostly not really). I think I did more of a growl than whimper. It was the whole road-rash-being-butch thing.

When will I learn to ease up on the front brake?

First Post

When blogs first emerged, I was intrigued by the new medium of communication. I began searching out and reading through as many as I could find and very quickly realized I was reading about someone else's mundane life. I found myself really not caring about what their meals were yesterday or the thoughtlessness of the driver who cut them off. I have been staunch in my resolve to never blog unless I have something specific to talk about or an insight so unique that everyone just HAS to know it.

I doubt my insights would be classified as unique. So I have to use the excuse that I've got something specific to talk about. I will be heading to South Africa in July and don't want to take my laptop. I do want to stay in touch with people while I'm gone and seems a blog would do the trick. This could very well be the first free hit from the corner crack dealer. Or the drug some call blogging could have no effect on my brain chemistry at all. In a year all could be back to normal with little remnants of having blogged, or I will be staying up late at night typing feverishly in a dark room - a metaphorically toothless, stringy and greasy haired, sloughing-skinned addict abandoning past passions in favor of the next blog hit.

To start off on the right foot, a picture:



This clean cut gentleman was a knowing participant in the mini-triathlon held at the University of Utah campus a few weeks ago. He was an unknowing participant in Craig's decathlon of picture taking. Or maybe he did know. We didn't care. Brandon was a willing participant in both competitions (Craig's and the U's) and did an excellent job. 21st in his division and 45th overall. I would be negligent not to mention the fine young lad pictured above was registered as #69. Of course.