Well taking two graduate courses, working full time, parenting solo and training for a triathlon - something had to give. I just wish I hadn't been sitting on it with my feet stuck in the cages when it did.
I would love to feel cool with my first real biking scrapes, big gash on the ankle and busted up elbow, and I'd like to feel tough about the warped wheel on my ridiculously expensive but oh, so lovely bike - but I can't since I took this glorious spill out of the stationary trainer.
Things have been spinning a bit out of control for the past few weeks. I just finished one of the two grad courses so I'm hoping to get back on track but I've been feeling pulled at both ends and a little frantic at not being able to keep the house in order with all these other things on my plate.
I overslept this morning and didn't get to do my bike ride. After work, and home from the kid's karate class, and after making dinner I tucked the boy in to introduce him to Monty Python. I figured we could search for the Holy Grail while I rode the trainer (By the way, 7 is old enough to get the slapstick but most of the jokes went right over his head).
Somehow I let the air out of the front tire but figured out how to pump it back up after a few false starts - and it appears I bought the wrong size of CO2 cartridge pumps so this was all by hand with a little tiny pump. Not to be stopped by this minor set back, I popped the bike back in the trainer and pedaled away.
When I first started using the trainer I was afraid of falling off of it but all the manuals and videos assured me that I was as stable as could be - or it was at least. So, when on my second acceleration I felt a tipping sensation, I figured it must just be because I was in a high gear and maybe working one leg harder than the other. That is, until I hit my head on the floor of the treadmill.
I'm still not sure what happened, I must not have had the bike in the trainer properly, maybe not tightened all the way, I don't know, but over I went and now my back wheel looks like pizza dough when it's flying through the air. I'm going to guess that isn't cheap to fix.
And here's the funny part. The old Sarah would have kicked the cat, had a good pout or just watched a bunch of TV for the rest of the night. Instead, I sat down with my calendar, figured out how I could schedule in a trip to the bikeshop before Friday and adjusted the rest of the week's workouts to make up for this lost session.
I still plan to just shrug tomorrow if someone asks about my scrapes and say "Oh, just a small bike accident". Please don't tell anyone it happened in my guest room under the watchful eyes of Michael Palin