I initially wasn't going to talk about this embarrassing bike ride experience. With it being an example of how bike rides can have their share of mishaps and in the interest of portraying an accurate depiction of my rides, I decided to share my story.
The ISU game was over and I needed to get out on the bike trail for some fresh air. I wasn’t intending to go for a long ride, just enough to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather. It had been a while since I was out on the High Trestle Trail, so off to Woodward I went with the plan to ride for an hour.
Lots of cars were parked at the quiet trailhead. I found an empty space and unloaded my bike to discover the chain had slipped off. Not the best way to start a bike ride. I got it back in place and then headed over to the trailhead restrooms.
The door had closed behind me without any problem, but when it was time to leave it wouldn’t budge. The lock seemed to be working fine, but the door was jammed shut.
It’s interesting how quickly your mind races when you’re put into stressful scenarios. I wondered how irritated my husband would be to get a phone call from me asking him to rescue me from a bathroom. Then I realized my phone was in my bike bag. Oh no!!
Remembering how quiet the trailhead was when I arrived I started getting panicky and wondering how long I’d be imprisoned. I pictured myself waiting in the dingy room for hours until someone discovered me. My mind envisioned needing to be freed by local rescue workers, while bored news stations reported a “Captured Cyclist Sprung from Trestle Trailhead”. That’s when I started kicking the crap out of the door. I figured I’d either be heard by someone who would help or dislodge the door.
After about 10 adrenaline-fueled kicks the door swung open just as a fellow cyclists was approaching to see if they could help. Sweet freedom! I must have had quite the look on my face because the gentleman laughed while explaining he coming to see if he could get me out. Thankfully no one had to call in reinforcements and I didn’t have to spend the night in the Woodward women’s restroom.
Back at my bike the desire to take a bike ride had dissipated. I felt like an idiot. Was I even supposed to be here? A slipped chain. Captured in the bathroom. What were the cycling gods trying to tell me? Should i just go home?
Putting those thoughts aside I got on my bike and headed down the trail hoping to leave the bad mojo behind. Thankfully there were no other mishaps and the bad feelings were soon pedaled away.
Reaching the bridge I took some time to watch pelicans fish and admired the view of the river valley. In Madrid I visited the coal mining tribute along Highway 17 before returning to Woodward.
I was glad I didn’t let the crazy start to my ride send me home. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned. Maybe the cycling gods weren't trying to tell me to go home but instead to expect the unexpected and to never leave my phone in the bike bag.