Had an ex that took me out in the woods once... on mountain bikes (get yer minds out of the gutter).
She had already attempted to teach me to roller blade: she very patient, me on the ground every time I stood up. She attempted to teach me to ski: she skiing backwards with grace and ease, me on the ground sliding down the bunny hill. It was then time to attempt the woods figuring I can ride a bike... no problem.
Off we go. Simple trail in trail terms. I hit every rock, snagged every tree. The only time I was simultaneously moving AND on the bike was on nice flat "running" path parts. I, quite frankly, was a accident looking for a place to happen.
Thus we come to my handle, Spazzdog. Girls, I'm a spazz, a klutz, a directionally impaired goofball. It has been suggested that I should wear a helmet fulltime, because if there's an object I'll hit my head on it. It's become a source of entertainment; a conversation starter (Hey Gena, hit your head lately?), and a lesson to me on what sports NOT to do.
But I'm a roadie, have always been a roadie... yeah, could be a mistake coming back to it after all this time and all the head injuries. Time will tell. But be forewarned; if you see a woman on a zebra bike wearing a neon orange Crash Test Dummy jersey, I weave like McEwen in a sprint (not at his speed, of course).
Trust me Irulan... y'all don't want me in your woods on a bike. Far too much blood and gore.



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