Our very own humiliation/embarassment thread

[CyclaSutra]

Reading this on bikeforums was so much fun, I decided we needed our own version.

My FIRST TIME as an adult on singletrack, I was swooping through the rollers, waaay in front of my boyfriend (now hubby) and I decided to bunny-hop the side of the deep singletrack to pull over and wait for him. At WAY too fast (15mph?) I tried, didn't make it, slammed sideways, put out my foot to "save" myself, planted the foot, destroyed the knee and somersaulted twice. ACL/MCL/meniscus surgery, $20,000 and six weeks later, I was back on the bike, albeit on the roads. I'm still not afraid to bomb downhill (now I go clipless) but my confidence has suffered mightily on the ski slopes.

Once I went to Starbucks (yes, I know, the evil empire) and biked the next block to work holding my latte in my left hand. I unclipped my right foot, planning to step off to the right, and ... you know what comes next ... slooowwwly tipped over to the left and crashed. But I didn't spill my latte! I'm very good at falling NOW.

I get dropped all the time, and it doesn't make it feel any better if it's a guy, a girl, or Lance Armstrong. By a mountain bike when I'm on the road does sting a little bit.

Two years ago, I got a new backpack. I was quite excited about it, but as soon as I climbed to the top of a divide and began heading down the steep singletrack on the other side, I realized the pack was banging against the back of the helmet when I rose off the seat into downhill position. So I tried to adjust it WITHOUT STOPPING my brisk descent. The next thing I knew, endo, me, on ground, face full of dirt (it even got in my sunglasses), bike on top of me.

During the Pole Pedal Paddle (similar to Bay to Breakers in costumes) race two years ago, we went as the PPP-Passion (based on Mel Gibson's movie). We had three Jesuses and a Mel Gibson (complete with director's clapboard). I created a foam cross and covered it with wood-grain contac paper, and we all took a turn wearing it during each leg of the race. I biked the 20-mile leg with a gi-normous cross on my back. Talk about the weight of my sins ... my neck was killing me by the time I got to the transition place and hopped in the raft for the final leg of the race.

Biking about 3,000 miles last summer, I gained a phenomenon I like to call "chicken butt." The hairs in my nether region (near the sit bones) all rubbed off due to friction, leaving the skin in that area with the texture of a freshly plucked chicken. In the off-season, it did go away.

I always keep waving at roadies during my commute to work (either on road bike or MTB) and they just kind of stare at me, like, "whaddya doing waving?" Now, the tourers loaded down with panniers ALWAYS wave. Wassup with that?

Your turns! ha ha!