Two weeks ago cycling finally took something from me, my wedding ring – and it had me pretty pissed off. After suffering two flats in a row I’ve taken to wiping my tires after riding through gravel. The first time I attempted this while exceptionally gassed ended with my gloved left hand helplessly stuck between my tire and the seat tube and my wedding ring being stripped from my finger and bouncing across the street. I had to come to a complete stop before removing my hand so I completely lost track of the direction of said bounding ring… It was a stupid rookie mistake to be sure, but whatever. I looked for my ring for 45 minutes before giving up, dejected.
I looked for it on every ride over the next week to no avail. It was a very simple ring, but I loved wearing it – I always looked at it as my advertisement that I’m spoken for and not having that drove me nuts.
So on our anniversary, my wife presented me with a new, entirely awesome, cobalt chrome ring that’s cut to look something like a disco ball. It will, forever more, be removed before I go for a ride, because I won’t be going through this again.
Cycling and I had a tough time over this. It’s done nothing but give to me, in terms of fitness, stress relief, enjoyment and making me look exceptionally more awesome over the last year. Last week it made me pay up in a way that was unexpected and very upsetting. Thankfully my wife, awesome as she is, stepped in and fixed it without taking advantage of the situation by trying to insert a teachable moment reaction.
I’d love to be able to offer some newly gleaned tips on how to properly wipe the tires, but when you’re wiped out, you’re wiped out and mistakes happen.