The First Falls

After accidentally steering into the drain basin and turning back onto the road too sharply, the two inch rim in between halted my bike but unfortunately not my body. I squeezed my eyes shut (as I usually do during intense athletic competition -- my coaches hate this), flew over my handlebars, and slid across the traffic lane. (Thankfully, no cars were near.) My eyes burst open; I grabbed my bike and literally crawled off the road to mend my wounds and calm myself down. Funny that same day, my orthopedic had told me at least five times that pole vaulting is the most dangerous sport ever but did not mention anything about the risks of biking … so, it must be very safe, right? I was fine for about another mile until I discovered a flat tire and had to walk the remaining two miles home. When I finally got home, my fearful parents were waiting on the front steps.

Since I am already struggling with the standard biking, I got clip-less petals today. It took me about an hour in a deserted church parking lot to learn to use them. I only fell twice! (Hooray!?!) Both came when I was trying to snap my shoes in and momentarily forgot about the existence of gravity. (I think this summer is going to be an unofficial lesson in basic physics principles/common sense -- you know, like momentum and gravity.) When I returned home with another bloody wound, my father kindly offered to buy me knee and elbow pads for my future rides.