Been a while since I posted here. Why not start again, now that winter is coming. And I mean that in the most literal way possible – no reference to current television content intended. 

I’ve done a bit of cycling this year. More than I thought, actually, but those are probably two or three other posts. I thought I’d get back to the original “Cycling is good for your health” theory. I suppose it might still be true, because fit and outdoors and all that.

 

However, whenever there is cycling, I’m also reminded of this: 

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And unfortunately, turns out this is actually sort of true. Now apparently everyone takes a spill now and then, and this got clearer when I switched to clipless pedals. I got several almosts. Almost fell of the bike, that is, because I stopped somewhere and forgot I was locked in. 

The really tricky bit came one day, when my bicycle decided to part ways with me. Imagine this: There you are, going along a road speedily when a queue of cars forms in front of a traffic light. You (that is me, you might be more sensible) decide to change lanes onto one of those optional bike path things to pass all those cars. And in trying to change lanes, you (me – we had that already) find a patch of ice. The first patch of ice of the year. And suddenly there is ground and it stings a bit. And then you pick up the bike, drag it out of the way, continue the way to work because nothing hurts too badly and only then realize that there are bits hanging out of one knee. Bits that should probably have stayed inside. 

Bleh.

At least I learnt that day, that bursae are optional. Or they must be, because someone decided to remove the rest of it. Queue bedrest. 

And if you thought that description was icky – sorry – but you should feel happy that I didn’t post pictures. 

Fast forward half a year (because I like to space out my injuries): there you are (well me, again), cycling on a protected bike path and you have to cross a road. It’s your right of way, you are going speedily, but not ludicrously fast and you are going parallel with traffic. And yet someone turns left from the opposite direction. Someone who should have seen you. Someone who then proceeds to accelerate while aiming their car at your bike. Well _my_ bike. The new one, as well, which I love dearly. 

I tried to brake, but once you’re on the road there isn’t really all that much room. To cross three lanes and get onto a bike path probably took the car about 1 to 3 seconds.

Now the resulting crash was interesting. For instance, I had no idea cars were such fragile little things. A moderately heavy cyclist on a relatively lightweight bike can, for instance, ruin a bonnet, a mudguard and take off a wing mirror before coming to rest on the smooth asphalt. 

Of course bicycles aren’t much more stable, so all sorts of stuff died a messy (and scratchy and bendy) death on the road that day.

Not me, though! 

Obviously – unless you believe in ghost-writing (Yeah, sorry. Groaning myself there). 

Humans have built in collapsible zones, too.

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Apparently ribs can bend a bit. But not too far. Then they will eventually break and snap and crackle. 

And then you can spend a few days in a lovely hospital (again), enjoy the food (sort of) and the conversation with the twelvety other people in your room (mmmm). And then you get to converse a lot with insurance companies. 

Instead of cycling.

BAH.

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