I don't consider myself a klutz by nature, but I have my moments. And when I do, well, let me just tell you: they are LEGENDARY. And VIEWED BY MANY.
While riding bikes with my husband Saturday afternoon, I had one of my moments. At Lake Hollingsworth. Where, like, 75,368 people walk, jog, skate, drive, etc. per day. Only this day, I'm sure that number was even larger, because I tend to command quite the audience when I mess up.
We were headed downhill on one of those streets between Lake Morton and Lake Hollingsworth. On the downhill headed to Lake Hollingsworth, I realize (too late) that I'm going too fast to make the sharp left-hand turn to get on the bike path.
I hit both my brakes to get things under control again. That did NOT "get things under control." It made my back tire come off the ground and for a nanosecond, I was balancing on my front tire.
Suddenly, my bike had this apparent flash of reality. If bikes could think, I imagine mine was thinking, "Hold up! I'm not a unicycle!"
And at that point, it decided to fling itself onto its side.
I determined I wasn't going down without a fight. I had this Carey Hart moment, where I thought I could ride this thing out. You know, take second, lean back, get the back tire to love Mother Earth once again.
Instead, I went all Cirque de Soleil on the situation- minus the graceful landing. After some weird contortions, I realized there was no getting out of a complete wipe-out. So I surrendered the handle bars, threw out my hands and landed on my hands and knees- all while remaining precariously wrapped around my bike in pretzel fashion. I lost a shoe, scraped my pride and bruised myself pretty darn good. One bruise is shaped like a baby's foot, minus the toes: