One of THOSE rides.

You know what I'm talking about. You've been having a great season thus far. Killin' it on the trails, and putting on good miles on the road. You're strong. You feel good.

Then 'that' day hits. Oh, you're fine through most of the day. There are only slight hints as too the mayhem that is approaching. A dropped soda can. Walking into the doorway. Forgetting where you put your glasses(on yer head dumass!)

You head to the trail for the planned ride. You've been thinking of the route all day long, and are looking forward to swooping through sun dappled trails, freshly tacky from the mornings rain.

But what's this? Does your bike want to jettison you, or is something just not right here? I know I've been talking about selling you, but damn. No need to react like this, bike. Stay under me.

Waitaminute.

You're heading for the root. And the rut. And that tree.

STOP! Stopping.

Sliding.

Foot out, grasping for traction. Damned slippery Sidi soles. Damned slippery rotting logs hidden underneath wet slimy undergrowth.

Was that my ankle?

I can recover. Yep, just a small bobble. No...wait...not...recovering...

Where's the seat going? That doesn't feel good.

I'm not landing in poison ivy am I?

Where's that laughter coming from? Oh, your entertained riding partner. Thanks. Thanks for that.

All right. You're sore. Ego's bruised. Lets keep going before the ankle protests too much. A mile later, and a rim hit or two that you just [I]know[/I] gave you a pinch flat, you give up. You're 3 miles into a ride that started ok, but quickly progressed down hill.

Cash it in, called the wife to have an ice bucket ready for the ankle and come back for another day.

Yep I had one of those yesterday. Could have been a great day in the woods, but NOOOOOO. Anyone want a Vassago?

Listening to: Minnesota Public Radio. And fighting children.