It's not easy being green...

This morning I hopped on my bike and rode down to the bus stop, where I discovered that the buses are actually running on the Sunday schedule due to the Days of 47 holiday. This left me with 3 options; wait more than an hour for the next bus, ride back home and get my car, or ride all the way to work. My manliness kicked in (and by manliness I mean making the worst possible choiceliness) so I decided on riding my bike all the way to work because it would take about the same amount of time as waiting for the next bus. (The ADD makes it hard for me to sit still for more than 3 nanoseconds.)

After I passed Thanksgiving Point, I decided to call my wife and let her know she may need to come pick me up if I die going over the point of the mountain. (Seriously, it's a big hill, and there are a lot of big trucks on those frontage roads). My phone was safely tucked away in a pocket of my bag, so I took both hands off the handlebars to pull out my phone and hit the speed dial for my house. I ride with no hands all the time the road was nice and flat (notice I didn't say smooth) so I wasn't worried (or thinking), but normally I'm not also wearing a walking cast when I ride my bike. (I know what you may be thinking, but you need to remember how "manly" I am). As I pressed the button for my wife's number, the walking cast foot slipped off the pedal (surprise, surprise), and down I went. I was doing approximately 15 mph at the time, so I skidded a bit, but luckily my hands were able to stop me fairly quick. (My feet were somewhere in the vicinity of over my head, and did I mention that I haven't been able to find my biking gloves so I wasn't wearing any?)

Luckily my bike is okay, but my cell phone went for a hop, skip and slide into the middle of the road (I did my best to hold onto it, as opposed to dropping it to grab the handlebars. Manliness again). Oh, and yea, there is some pretty gnarly road rash on both of my hands and some lovely red patches on my left forearm and elbow. I peeled myself off the road and crossed the street to pick up my phone (the screen is okay and it still turns on, but there's an interesting clicking noise when I talk now which makes me sound like an African bushman). Then I picked up my bike, straightened the handlebars, and rode to a nearby gas station to clean my wounds. After the crimson water had drained from the men's room sink, I called the mommy ambulance to bring me some antiseptic and drive me the rest of the way into work. Here's some pics of the damage:





Here's an updated pic that shows all of the road rash once it scabbed over:


Though I wouldn't call this my favorite commute, I'd have to say today's commute will be hard to top on my most memorable list. So what's the moral of this story? I'm sure there's more than a few you can think of, but I'll go with this:

If you ever need a walking cast, make sure to get the clipless model.