It had been a pretty good week. I’m freshening up and feel strong, better prepared for the upcoming road nationals.
I’d been having troubles with the Di2 on my mad one (my affectionate nickname for the Trek Madone my supporters funded in 2010) and she made three visits to the workshop when, on Tuesday night, I got her back in brilliant working order.She was shifting more smoothly than ever before and the session I completed with Mick yesterday was excellent – she was an absolute joy to ride.
Today we set out to ride intervals – 2 mins of maximum effort with 4 minutes at 160bpm. We were joined by my coach, Geoff, as a surprise guest. He was a welcome and happy addition. We warmed up, laughing, joking and chatting.
90 seconds in to my first 2 minute interval, I crashed. I’ve got some nasty road rash and yet another torn jersey. What happened? The handle bar came away from the stem and brought me down… At around 40km/hr. Random, horrific mechanical. And not my first one!
The worst part? It brought my coach down too. And although it’s annoying that my gears, just fixed, are now destroyed, it’s much more annoying that the front forks of my coach’s bike need to be replaced. That’s a big deal. The innocent bystander has come out of this far worse than me. I really feel bad for him.
The timing could only have been worse if it happened next week. This time next week, I’ll be packing my bags to head to Queensland for the nationals. This accident also impacts my pole training, as I have a big chunk of hand missing, but I’ll mind map and train off the pole for Melbourne.
Hurry up, gloves that fit. Arrive in my letterbox and save my hand from any further destruction!
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