I crashed today. I'm hurt. It feels like a separated shoulder (left side), but I suppose there's a chance I put another crack in my collarbone. At least there's no road rash this time, but I can barely move my arm. We'll see what tomorrow brings. I'm hoping all the damage is to soft tissue and recovery is swift. Cycling ambitions, such as they were, are on hold. My job now is to heal in time for my softball team's playoff game on Aug. 18.
What happened? My front tire got captured by a pothole on the Wild Goose State Trail. It was late afternoon and the trail was a mix of sun and shade. I never saw the hole: one second everything was fine and the next I was flying over the handlebar. Still clipped into the pedals, when I went down my body acted like a trebuchet and launched the bike another 40 feet down the trail. Fortunately we both landed on grass and the bike wasn't damaged. I recovered my water bottles and restarted, knowing it would be a painful ride back to the car. I was 42 miles into a 70-mile ride. It's absolutely awful to ride after a crash; all of your enthusiasm is gone. But I was riding solo today and I didn't feel like I had a choice.
Forgive me if I don't post for a couple of days ...
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