There's been a guy from our UK division visiting my company for the last few weeks. Last week I found out he's a mountain biker that prefers downhilling but isn't opposed to pedaling uphill once in a while. So I, being the VP of the local MTB club, generously offered to take him out and show him some of our local riding spots. We had a super fun ride on Saturday and he loved our trails. We agreed to ride again last night to try out a few of the sections again that had some flowy downhill lines. Things were going great and I was getting much more comfortable attacking the downhills with more speed than I have in the past. From here my thought train goes like this:
pedal, pedal, pedal, miss that tree, hard right coming, SWEEET! that back tire drift felt awesome!, hairpin left, coulda been a bit more smooth there, let the bike float over the roots, shallow right then down again, TREE!, ouch!, roll with the fall, that musta looked awesome, I'm okay, what do you mean I'm bleeding?, ooh that's a lot of blood on my arm, I thought I just scraped the tree, let's wash that off with the camelbak, uhh that's gonna need stitches, crap.
Nine stitches and a really late night at the ER.
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