Bent rims and bruised manhood

I can't really say that the season is early anymore, except for the fact that I don't feel like I've ridden nearly as much as I want to. But how's that different from any time of year?

In reality, I've been getting out with fair regularity -- something a little better than once a week. I know, that's nothing impressive, but when you work full time and come home to two kids and a wife who's anxious to dump them in your lap and get her own work done, it's not that bead either. Been getting my legs back -- always a spring chore. Found a buddy to ride with again, which helps, and been exploring some new track.

Anyway, things were going pretty decent for a while: Ride every Monday for 2-3 hours on the way home from work. Toss in another morning ride sometime during the week. Then, a couple weeks ago, B and I went for our regular Monday afternoon thing. We did a little exploring on some 1-track that I knew existed, but had never ridden. It runs up a canyon and dead ends at Mt. Rose Wilderness boundary; I just wasn't sure how far up. The last time we'd been up that way was a while back when there was still ice and snow.

So we ride this trail, and it's a burner. Not long -- about 3.5 miles -- but steady, relentless climbing -- more than 2,000 feet worth. All 1-track. Some rather technical.

Long story short: We made it to the boundary, which happened to be at 7,500 feet, and turned around for the descent, which is some of the best close to town. was riding right on the edge of my comfort zone -- pushing it to my own limits. My first mishap came at a bridge crossing. Nothing dramatic, but it's a very steep and loose descent on the approach to a 2x4 bridge that's maybe 12 inches wide. Locked up the front, buried the wheel and went OTB. Took it on the chin. No blood, so I hopped up and continued my descent, this tie at a faster, more reckless pace.

I don't think I'd made it half a mile before I found myself flying over large -- basketball-sized plus -- rocks and into a boulder the size of a single bed. I don't think I was going this fast when I landed, but my GPS showed a max speed of 36 mph.In any case I got to "know" my bike in the biblical sense and found myself rolling among the rocks and sage brush for several minutes while my buddy tried to figure out what the hell I was up to.

I checked my self for blood again because I was not entirely convinced that my manhood had survived. No blood, but things were not the right size or color either. And to top things off, my front wheel was tacoed. This especially sucked because Spinergys are not cheap. Damn near bullet-proof -- it's been three years without so much as a truing, but not cheap. Well, Spinergy will replace the wheel for a great price -- props for 1st rate support and service -- but I'm still without a wheel for quite a while.

As for the more tender equipment, I could hardly stand up when I got home. I lay on my back with my nether regions packed in ice all evening. The result was some serious bruising from my knee to my groin and a sack that turned black a week later -- think wrinkled plum. Some of the plumbing (sorry, no pun intended) is still sore now three weeks post impact, but I was done having kids anyway.