Jimspeak

I was made to stay up way too late last night. It's been a while since I watched the sun come up without going to bed first. Unlike northern countries like Canadia or even Alaska (not a country, I know)the hours of dark and light here are not too disimilar. So staying up late enough to see the sun come up is a feat. A feat of idiocy, but a feat all the same. I slept for ~5 hours and then got up to read the paper and eat breakfast. Then came the ride of shame-the long bike ride up north to get my bike. It was fun, actually. It's a beautiful day, I felt good, I had some good tunes, and since I hadn't been on the bike in a while it felt good to ride. So there I was, cruising up the Highline Canal, singing out loud and giigling maniacally to myself and soaking in the sun. I hit the Cherry Creek path by my old apartment, and left the dirt/paved trail and went down to the dirt single track down by the creek. It's a fun little trail, and I rode it a lot when I lived next to it. It's fairly technical-lots of rocks, trees, sand, usually thrown in together. Fun stuff! Things were going well-I was handling the terrain pretty well and felt good and spunky. But it all unraveled. I remember now that I got over some rocks that were mingled with some roots on a double fall line uphill. Proud of myself for handling it so well, I couldn't help but wonder at how I would handle getting my feet free if I started to list badly. And I was wearing sandles. It all came back to haunt me. THere was a concrete rim, on the far side were a bunch of rocks and a small downhill. I got over the concrete, but my front tire got caught in between a couple rocks and stopped. I kept going. Tore the top of my foot up and bungled up my arm as well. And the minidisc kept rolling! Pulling myself up off the ground and unraveling my tangled limbs, I walked my bike across the sand bed just beyond the destroyer rocks. The rear wheel wasn't spinning, and after some inspection I realized that I had bent the piss out of the rim. Oops. Deciding that I no longer felt capable of traversing the trail without further damage, I walked my bike up to the paved trail. THere I was-bleeding, giggling at...whatever, singing along with my tunes while riding a bike with a wobbly rear tire and no rear brakes (I had to disconnect them to get the tire to spin). Oh yeah-to add to the moving comedy that was me, my hair was Beaker-esque when I woke up. All of it is sticking straight up. And since I was wearing a visor, it accentuated the look. What a riot!

I am an idiot