This morning I was super pumped for my first weekday ride in months. I felt like I was playing hooky from my own business and even though it was super windy, I was determined to get on the road for a short ride to shake out the legs.
Picture this: I am dressed in Lycra layers head to toe (Tough Chik of course) as I roll Pinky (my bike) out the front door. We have a Spanish tiled front walkway that leads to a landing at our front door. I have been meaning to replace my cleats as they are very worn, but they slip into my pedals so smoothly I have put this purchase off.
So I am leading Pinky out of the front door by the handle bars and my worn, smooth cleat slips on the tile causing me to tumble on my side. And it hurt! I cuss myself for being such a klutz and not buying new cleats. I roll over and stand up with my ego and backside stinging in pain. I am so self consumed that I don't even take Pinky's health into consideration! I pick her up and I am befuddled.
I guess when I slipped, I pulled the handle bar down with me thus thrusting the drop of my handlebar under my top tube! Have you ever seen anything like it?
Of course, my bike mechanic (AKA husband) is out of town. After a few 911 text messages, I loosened the bolts on the stem a freed Pinky! She is now resting comfortably and I decided against a ride. I felt like it was a bad omen.