Picked Up, Dusted Off, Back on that fucking Horse.

Okay I'm not dating. Last wednesday I had a really impressive stack, much like my wreck of a life it was entirely self inflicted, and also like my life I am inexplicably proud of the achievement.

I was cruising down the boulevard, and (I kid you fucking not) contemplating whether I was indeed a masochist, given my enjoyment of experiences most people would describe as bad. When I was superfluously peddling, listening to public enemy and wondering, my superfluous peddling resulted in my right foot losing its grip on my shiny new peddle (peddles, I bought two new peddles, but my right foot was only gripping the right one). Before I knew it my toes touched the asphalt, and in half the remaining time left before I was to know it, my foot was dragged back by the relative stationary state of the asphalt it was touching and got pinned by the calf on the shiny new peddle, my toes dragging along the road.

I must have known by now, that something was wrong, but what exactly was wrong, I did not yet know. I'm not sure if I ever did. Suffice to say I did what all good cyclists would do in the sudden predicament of having an involuntary foot shaped anchor to the right of their center of mass and pulled on the breaks and tried to sit my bike.

It occurs to me now if I was one of those douchebag fixed gear riders, the stack would have been much, much worse given the lack of breaks and that a skidding halt is all that's available to you in the best of times.

Anyway, whilst trying to sit in the saddle as the bike came to an increasingly unbalanced halt, the peddles wanting to continue on their merry way, continued on their merry way. Before I knew it, I'd been pulled forward, and was suddenly riding the top-tube with my nuts.

This hitting the top-tube with your nuts is more or less every male cyclists nightmare, and I imagine hitting it with the pubic bone is no more or less pleasant. That said, I recovered from that collision much quicker than any of the other damage I inflicted on myself.

I recall being pulled two-and fro across the top tube before eventually tumbling. I slid on my right wrist, mashed my long suffering silver bracelet to ruins on the left, and somehow, I'm no CSI managed to ride on my left forearm, for one or two bounces and just kissed the road with my chin on the last bounce and came to a halt.

The whole thing must have taken 4 seconds, was very confusing and I estimate my foot got dragged for 30 meters pinned where it was.

The worst damage was to the upper side of my right foot, which was bruised/broken up. However my shoes where in relatively good shape, so I didn't notice this for some time. Then there was 4-5 layers of pedal shape skin shaved away from my calf by the pedal, that's the next worse. The rest was just feeling like I'd been sleeping on golfballs, being covered in random bruises and grazes.

I was up on my feet talking to an old couple and a guy on a road bike before I knew what was going on. I could tell my mind hadn't caught up with me yet so I placated the onlookers by saying I was fine, I'd walk down to a drinking fountain and gather myself.

I ended up getting impatient and got back on the bike to ride the bike path to the drinking fountain. There whilst drinking water I had several cracking/popping sounds coming from the toes of my right foot and thought 'that can't be good'. I finished riding into town.

It was lunch time so I sought out food before medical attention, the lady that served me kept asking if there was anything else she could help me with. I was all like 'No thankyou, have a nice day' all pleasant and shit. I was in a really good mood. I ate lunch and called harvard and asked if he had any bandages as my grazes were beginning to sting in the wind.

Harvard was all like 'shit' but no real help, he didn't own really anything of a first add description. He did suggest I just buy the supplies from a pharmacy then I could use his bathroom. That was helpful.

I did that, and performed my own first aid in a manner reminiscent of 'No Country For Old Men' except without the syringes, the sewing up my own flesh and a fuckload more screaming as I cleaned gravel out of my forearms and shredded skin out of my calf.

Antiseptic cream, some shoddy bandages and some southpark episodes later, I walked out of Harvard's to buy my brother a birthday present and then picked up my bike and caught a train home.

So yes, I got back on the horse immeadiately, but after that day I didn't ride my bike again until yesterday. Because I guess its understandable to be scared of my foot flying off that peddle any time. worse it could be in peak traffic where I end on the ground I get my melon popped by some Camry's tire.

Not me though, it was pretty simple, just concentrate until my confidence is up. If there's anything I learned from the whole experience it is take photo's of your injuries before they start healing, my right foot was impressively swollen and purple a few days ago, now it just looks blotchy purple. Opportunity missed.

I highly recommend cycling, because a massive stack on a bike will more often than not end up as an amusing anecdote, whereas car bingles have a tendancy to turn into traumatic events or at the very least incredibly expensive.