A Dry Walk at the Lake

Between Hockey and Hot Tub

Driest "Atmospheric River" Ever

"Look Maw ... HANDS"

Something Old, Something New ... and Something New to Me!

I'm (to a much greater degree) angry with myself for putting me in a bad situation involving ONCOMING TRAFFIC.
I'm (to a much lesser degree) happy with myself for my skater's instincts to "steer my slide."

I was out for my August century, meeting up with David for a "gravel twist," some 40+ miles of my road on gravel trails, first running from Issaquah to Preston, then running from North Bend to Rattlesnake Lake, and then (the doozy) running 20 miles each way from Rattlesnake Lake up to the Snoqualmie Pass Tunnel, via the John Wayne Trail. Fez performed well in the gravel (the arm for my GoPro? well, that's another story). David was a great tour guide introducing me to trails I'd never experienced before.

At around the 75 mile mark, we had reached pavement, and were excited at the smoother ride ahead of us. On the descent from Rattlesnake Lake, we encountered some fresh pavement, which up'ed my excitement. Too much, it turns out. I came into an unfamiliar curve too hot, and as I started to creep higher and higher in the lane, I realized I was in trouble. With a steady stream of cars in the other lane, I found myself quickly looking for the lesser pain amongst this inevitability. I had it figured that as long as I made it past the first car, the driver in the second car and I would both have time to react to what was about to happen. My rear wheel (with the help of a lone glove in the middle of the road) decided I had had enough time to work it out. In a hard lean, my rear wheel came off the pavement and the slide commenced, beginning at the double yellow in the apex of the curve. I'm not sure how I pulled off my next manuever, but somehow I got onto all fours in the slide, leaving the bike behind, and started using my arms to steer. It was a maneuver I remember doing many times on skates. The only difference is on skates you have these fat plastic wrist protectors instead of dinky gloves with comfy little gel packs in the palms. Non-ideal equipment aside, the technique did work, and my steering combined with the steering of the driver in the oncoming car conspired to create the narrowest of gaps where the two of us could come to a stop without touching. 

David was a couple of seconds behind me and slowing himself quickly. But with the poor placement of my bike, his stop was cut a bit short. As I was hopping up and speaking in tongues, I saw David quite deftly save himself from endo-ing. That's about the same time that Bev, the alert driver, hopped out of her car and came over to check on me. For scaring the sh*t out of her, she was amazingly considerate towards me. David had my bike out the road in a second, and traffic continued to flow again, with the first driver slowing to ask if I wanted him to call an ambulance. I said it was all road rash and I was fine. My mind was already moving forward to "get back on the bike ... before you stiffen up or have a chance to think twice about it ... get back on the bike." David, perhaps thinking the same, was checking out the bike and giving a report: "rear tire is flat." Now I start to slow down. Fixing a flat means a 10 minute stop. Lots of stiffening can happen in 10 minutes. "Oh, rear wheel doesn't look good." So much for 10 minutes. Riding on would not be an option.

Breathing in. Breathing out. Now, in a calmer place, Bev, David, and I discussed the options. Ultimately, a text to the family and a ride from Bev saved the day. Bev took me down into North Bend, where David rode to and met up with me at Taco Time. We waited there for Luke to come pick us up. I was literally a "bloody mess" that I'm sure didn't help the appetites of the fellow Taco Time diners. 

Three days later, I'm healing more quickly physically than I am mentally. "Utter stupidity" has been my favorite phrase. I should be back in the saddle in another week, if my head lets me.



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Jeff Bogdan

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A Dry Walk at the Lake

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