My biking in the last month since the completion of RTYD IV has been dismally low. In total, I have only biked 250.5 miles since I completed a week of nearly 800 miles. To put that in more perspective, bad weeks of biking during the summer training would be weeks I only logged 200 miles. I’ve done that distance in a month.
Emma here. As Joey prepares for his upcoming ride of epic proportions, I wanted to send him off with a few words from me and his parents.
On a sunny April afternoon in 2016, I turned down Water Street in Kent, OH, on my way home, taking a 15-mile route instead of the standard six miles. Water Street is four lanes across with no shoulder heading straight through town and my bright blue backpack, vibrant green shirt, and flashing red tail light were all doing a fine job of indicating my very deserving and not at all incorrect presence on the road.
I have been hit by a car exactly once. It was about as mild as being hit by a car can be, if I’m honest, but if you unexpectedly hit something with your vehicle, as gentle of a tap as it may have been, you have hit it.
I was on a bike path that had to cross over streets and that allows me the right-of-way, as incoming cars have a stop sign. As I approached the intersection, I saw the white Toyota come to its mandatory stop, but something inside me caused me to think that that was about all the caution I should expect from them.
“Madness is never that far away. It’s as close as saying yes to the wrong impulse, but you don’t because luckily most of us have that little voice inside our head that says, “Uh uh uh, turning the car into oncoming traffic is counterproductive!”
– Jim Carrey
It was raining decently when I left on a planned 119 mile training ride on my Centurion road bike. Seven miles in, I hit some railroad tracks at just slightly the wrong angle. My tire went left and I went straight. I landed directly on my hip, yelling out loud upon impact, “I knew that was going to happen!”
I won’t say that as a cyclist’s wife I have it nearly as hard as, say, a military or rockstar’s wife. The former may live without her husband for months, always wondering if he’ll make it home alive and in one piece. The latter may also not see her husband for months while he tours and, assuming he’s a stereotypical rockstar who’s into hard drugs and easy women, may have similar concerns that he may not come home alive or in one piece.
**THIS POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT** Biking comes with a guarantee of ailments and injuries, including but not limited to scrapes, bruises, soreness, chaffing, dehydration, heat exhaustion, blisters, cramps, and numbness, to name just a few.