On Saturday, while out for an easy mountain bike ride with my husband and his friend Patrick, I surprised a squirrel on a footbridge. The squirrel shot out ahead of me, and I managed to veer around him… straight into the path of an oncoming jogger. I managed to miss the jogger, but my rear tire slid on loose dirt, and I spilled across the front handlebars, knees and arms bonking and skidding on the cement of the path, sliding into an ungraceful heap, my chin lightly tapping the ground as I came to rest.
Thankfully nothing was broken. I’m scuffed and bruised and have a wrenched shoulder, but all in all I came away fairly lucky. I finished the ride, and once back home, I began the job of salving my pride. After a shower to wash off the dirt, I went straight for the Ibuprofen and red wine. Now, I’m no doctor, and I won’t prescribe this cure for anyone else, but I couldn’t think of anything I needed more. I put an ice pack on my knee, sipped my wine, and sat quietly, cursing that squirrel. Oh, and my wine of choice would be Caldaro Sunflower Pino Nero.