Bloodiest Ride Ever

My ride was going fine. It was around 31 degrees and a little breezy. My knee was holding up OK, which was good. I had blown a few snot rockets (or “farmer blows” but I resent that term) because it was a bit chilly and I was still getting over my cold.

When I was around 4 miles from home, I blew another rocket, and it caught my eye as it flew over my right shoulder. It was blood red. And I had a bloody, bloody taste in the back of my throat.

"Super," I thought.

My nose started dripping blood like a faucet. I was trying to snort it all up, and spit it back out. I was sending red, snotty loogies all over Summit Ave. I wasn’t getting it all out; I had to swallow a lot of it. My mouth tasted like death. I was wiping up all I could with my gloves, which soon became horribly stained.

I thought about stopping at a grocery store or gas station, but I thought I would scare cute families out for a Sunday stroll. So I just kept going.

My nose mostly dried up after 10 minutes, just before I arrived at home. I got in the house to clean up.

Notice the blood ring around my mouth. Yummers.

I was surprised when I looked in the mirror - I thought I was going to look much worse; I had pictured blood all over my face. Anyway, I got home and threw everything in the washing machine. My right glove looked like I used it to help an elephant give birth. My thin jacket had blood up and down the right sleeve, and a few pools on the shoulder. My tights had drops all over them.

I went out and cleaned up my bike. There was blood all over the aero bars: on the bars, on the hinges, and a few nasty drops on the forearm pads. I couldn’t get everything out of the pads. Gross. My little aero bar pouch had blood all over the Velcro. One of my water bottles was splattered. And, worst of all, my white phat-wrap on the handle bars will never, and I mean NEVER, be the same again.

So be careful if you are on the north side of Summit Ave between River Road and Lexington Ave - there may be some gooey, slippery spots that could stain your clothes or small dogs. Man, I don’t know how I had any good stories to share before I started all this triathlon stuff!