Sometime You Have To Say "No"

I wanted to ride. I really did.

Tuesday night's shop ride is a highlight of my week. It's short, fast, and the crowd is great! There are other rides in the area—and I've tried them—but I always come back to this one.

It's the people. The core of the ride is a solid crew who all get along. There's mild banter, the occasional smack-talk. Nothing too out-of-the-ordinary.

Alan Enduro: So Ray, you're about due for a crash.
Me: What?
Alan Enduro: Yeah, shouldn't you break a clavicle or something? How will you handle getting through an injury-free season .
Me: I hate you.
Alan Enduro: What? I'm just looking out for you!
Me: There's a special ring of Hell, just for you.

You get the idea...

So on this Tuesday, I was having a Monday. Nothing was going right. I was running late. I'd lost my cell phone. I walked home from the bus (no phone = no call for a ride). I was late. I walked in the door just as I was supposed to be leaving for the ride. I broke my pump...

...and when I rolled out of my driveway I heard a POP! Hisssssssssssssssssss...

Punctured tubular.

@*&^*!!!

I ran inside, swapped out my front wheel, and headed out again. Adrenaline up, anger out, going, going gone.

I met the group on the road, made my greetings, and settled in.

First hill of the day for me was at Mile 10.  It felt like Everest.

The first hill felt...bad. My legs were still shattered from Sunday's ride. the five hours of sleep on Monday night didn't help either. I needed recovery.

I finished the climb in the pack—a rarity. Usually, I am one of the first finishers. I was sitting in today, and I knew it.

We got onto the flat, through a few traffic circles, and we heard something we never want to hear: "Rider down!"

One of the leaders—a triathlete, who had been riding on his aerobars—had hit a small-but-deep road hazard. He lost control and crashed. It was ugly. His helmet didn't look too good, and he had a deep gash on his lower leg—a deep gash.

By the time we had gotten to him, he was supine, in shock position (with legs elevated) and one sock and shoe soaked through with blood.

These are the good guys.

If it's never happened to you, imagine cutting yourself when your heart rate is elevated and you are well-hydrated. You're gonna be a bleeder. HE was a bleeder.

Fortunately, cell phones were out, calls were made, a veteran-Ironman-passer-by had a first aid kit, and our comrade was whisked away to the hospital lickity-split.

Someone volunteered to ride back to the shop to get a vehicle, return to the crash site, pick up the bike, and bring it back to the shop. Jay The Elder volunteered to stay with the bike.

I stayed with The Elder.

Know Your Limits

I knew...knew...that something bad would happen if I continued that ride. Everything inside me was saying: "don't do it!"

This time I listened.

It had been a Monday (even thought it was Tuesday). Nothing was going well. And as I watched the ambulance drive away, I knew that it could have been me.

And it would likely become me.

Sometimes you have to say "no". We do this for pleasure. And sometimes we need to stop, so we can ride another day.

One of the guys said: "It sounds like an excuse to me."

I responded: "Yep. It is."

Know when to fold 'em.