Crashing

In between working, I've been closely following all the action of Le Tour de France over the last two weeks (I missed week one by being in New Mexico) via the live commentary on the web. As of today Alberto Contador (of team Discovery Channel) is in yellow. For the non-cyclist reader: that means he's winning. I am among the fans who cheered every day this week as another doper was caught and dismissed from the race. I like my sports clean (long live the triumph of Hammerin' Hank).

Along with crazy speeds and impossible climbs, crashes are a consistent part of each day of the Tour. Just about half an hour ago the four stage leaders who had "escaped" from the peloton ran into a stray dog. I mean RAN INTO the dog. Two cyclists crashed and needed medical attention along with new bicycles. World-class athletes having to cope with house pets on the loose. Now that's some quirkiness I can appreciate. Both riders are still competing in the stage, by the way. No word on the dog's condition.

I am no world class rider (this is notsospeedy you are reading, remember) but I did experience my first crash of "the big ride" yesterday in Sedgwick Co. Park.

I ran into a kid.

For the record it was 100% his fault. A fact of which he was well aware after my lecture in English and his mother's in Spanish. Bilingually he was told that riders approaching each other stay on the right side of the road. Each to her right and no one gets hurt. He keep veering left, I kept veering right, it was one of those awful moments of miscommunication where eventually all you can do is run into each other.

Before you go thinking I still bear responsibility considering I am the adult, on a better machine and a more experienced rider, please know that this was a 12 year old boy on a bmx bike who, it appeared, weighs more than I do. If he had been a six-year-old I would have all but stopped as we approached one another. That way I could have adjusted to whatever course he decided to take. But he was almost a teenager, I assumed he knew what to do. He didn't and we crashed head-on.

Thankfully neither we nor our bicycles were hurt. I don't even remember seeing blood. As a crash then, it was less than spectacular. Except for the fact that I hit a kid. And that once he got over being shocked he was traumatized enough to cry. I think he'll remember to keep to the right next time.

I am thankful that the mother helped remove all the burrs from my clothing (especially my bike shorts! Yikes). I wasn't even stiff this morning so I grabbed another quick 10 miles while it was 69 degrees--what a treat for July. It really does pay to get up early (grumble, grumble). And less teenagers on the path at 8am.

I just read that Sandy Casar (involved in the dog crash) was voted the "most aggressive rider" of stage 18 of the Tour. He's got a big wound on his right hip and had to see the race doctor for some pain in his shoulder mid-race. That's a sympathy vote if I've ever seen one. Oh! He just won the stage! What a crazy sport.