With only one weekend left to get ready for Dirty Kanza, and a month until Chequamegon 100, there was little time to train. The Gravel Metric was also this weekend, and I had planned to use that as my final ride before heading to Kansas.
Friday rolls around, I had planed on doing a double metric Satuerday, the the GM on Sunday. I was just going to cruse and take pictures at the GM. A last minute dession to head to the local trails (Palos) to get some MTB miles instead turned out to be a bad one.
I figured bike riding is bike riding. I'd do 50 of single track, then the GM the next day and I'd be good for DK and get a jump on Cheq100. The day started off rad as shit! I got there early, got a lap in at Cemetery Hill, and meet Joel in the parking lot. We headed out and hit a bunch of stuff, then met up with Eric, Rachael, and Michelle. We rode some sections I had only riden once before, in the winter, on a single speed. XX Extension or something. Which was miserable. This time I was on my Superfly with more gears than I know what to do with and it was a fantastic. We blasted down three ravines calling and screaming out, making our way back to the lot. There we parted ways with the ladies and Joel. Eric and I did a quick loop around Cemetery before he took off.
Half way done, 25 miles. I rolled out on my own. The trails had thinned out as it was the middle of the day on Memorial Day weekend. People got to get their BBQ on! I was done trying to smash it with everyone, I just wanted to cruise around and have a nice afternoon to myself. Heading back up the trail there is a section of about 4 burms, I made it around the first one and once I came upon the second one this wide eyed 13 year old comes around, WITH NO HELMET. Damn multi-directional trails.
He scared the shit out of me, I hadn't heard anyone call back to me as I was calling out, and he was a KID with no helmet. As a result I slammed on my brakes, our front tires collided. Mine burped just as I went over the bar and face 1st into the hard concrete like trail, with my FACE. My beautiful face.
I could feel and hear the crunch of my nose, I knew it was broken. My head didn't hurt, so I thought I was cool. Until I pulled out my phone to look at the damage, weird looking helmet mark on my head, "fuck" I thought. That is a bruise, not dirt.
The kid was with is crappy dad and fat little brother. What, he was. Upon seeing my bloody face that dad said, "Maybe we should have gotten the helmets out of storage".
"We have HELMETS?!", the little brother exclaimed with horror in his eyes.
They helped me walk back to the lot and offered to take me to the my car. Once waiting for the dad to come back with his car, I called friends who might be near. Eric, luckily, was hanging out at the near by brewery after his ride. He stopped what he was doing and hauled ass to get me, and take me to the hospital. There he waited and hung out with me for hours. Even after my girl friend showed up, he stayed to make sure I was alright.
I am. I'm fine. Broken nose, busted helmet, scrapes, bruise, sore neck/shoulders. Pissed I got hurt a week out from Dirty Kanza, which I'm still going to do.
Shit happens.
That kid was fine BTW. Little bastard landed in the soft, lush brush. Hope he got poison ivy. Always wear a helmet.
-SCHRATZ