Stuck in a Rut

I had a little chuckle to myself this morning as we set off on our mountain bikes. All of about four seconds had passed and Mike announced that he had a puncture. I didn't chuckle because I am mean, I chuckled in a happy way because the first mountain bike fail of the day was out of the way and it had fallen to somebody else!


It definitely wasn't Mike's first flat; a very speedy change later and we were on our way. The sun was shining this morning, Spring is definitely in the air and it felt great to be back out after I've been holed up all week with a cold.


Another brilliant moment came from Jo, who had been struggling to drop into a smaller gear   as we climbed our first hill. In fact we'd climbed about three hills before she realised that you need to press the other lever to change down. Genius.


We were being led out of Salisbury by Pip on some great (and incredibly, dry) trails that I had never ridden. Before I knew it, we had popped out over the top of a hill and were rewarded with a cracking view of Stonehenge. After stopping for a quick munch and enjoying the view, we headed off down the hill.


The next bit of trail we hit was really rutted. Rutted trails are the worst. They lure you into a false sense of security as they start off shallow and flat and smooth and make you think that you've made the best route choice. Then gradually they get deeper and before you know it you can't get out, then you have to try SO hard to keep pedalling in a straight line because even the slightest deviation will result in one of your pedals hitting the side and that will be game over. I think it must have been a mountain biker who actually coined the phrase "stuck in a rut".

Nothing like a cold compress to soothe
a bump on the head. We should be more worried
about the lack of a left leg though..

I realised fairly early on in this cruel rutted game that I was going to get stuck in a deep one, so I made a break for it and tried to get out over the left lip. My tyre skidded against the side and the bike dropped. I managed - in true Egg style - to hit nothing but my head. In fact, I even managed to hit a bit of rock at such a perfect angle that the point of impact was just below where my helmet sat. 


My fellow riders were on hand immediately with plenty of reassurance and a water-soaked-buff to apply to my sore head (yet another brilliant use for a Buff!). Once I'd recovered a bit and realised that I knew what day of the week it was, we set off again at a nice, easy pace.


Suffice to say I did my best to stay out of all the ruts for the remainder of the ride. For the record (and before I get a call from my mum in a panic), I'm pleased to report that an A&E trip wasn't necessary. 2011 could still be the year of no hospital visits. Fingers crossed people!