Karma

So there I was, riding in the Preserve with my roommate Aaron. It is worth mentioning that as soon as Aaron starts riding more than once a week, he is going to be a force to be reckoned with at the races. Dude can handle his bike.

Riding up one tricky climb, I ran out of momentum and had to put a foot down. This maneuver is so trivial as to be subconscious; this time, though, I wish I'd paid more attention.

We'd been noting all afternoon how the ground felt different, how the leaves were frozen to each other and sounded wrong. It didn't have any substantial effect - after all, I am a survivor of Kansas City CX Nationals - until I tried to ride this climb.

I put my foot down on a deceptively deep pile of leaves, and I immediately found myself on my stomach about two yards downhill. Aaron was following about 5 seconds behind, and I scrambled to get myself and my bike out of his way, as is common courtesy.

While I can only imagine what I looked like, trying to get to my feet before being obliterated, I think the best word to describe it would be "flopping". Every time I tried to put weight on my left leg, the bike would knock into my right leg and I'd fall again.

Aaron, being an all-around good guy, slammed on the brakes before running me over. Like me, he put a foot down, then slid a few yards backwards on his stomach. Unlike me, he managed not to get his foot wedged in his rear wheel.

Somehow, in the act of slipping downhill, I'd gotten my foot jammed so tightly between two spokes that I couldn't yank it back out. This was a one in a million feat, a fact that I was not too preoccupied to appreciate.

I balanced precariously on one foot, hoping that the efforts to remove my left foot from its trap wouldn't upset the right foot's tenuous toe-hold. Too proud to accept help, I yanked at the bike for a while, by which I was able to accomplish absolutely nothing. Well, that's not true. I managed to force my foot farther into the spokes, and now I was in pain.

To be fair, this wasn't the most painful incident of the ride. It honestly doesn't even even make it into the top 3 of the afternoon (wear your helmets, kids). While I could pick myself up from the ice or shake off a saddle to the crotch, though, I'd found myself in a significant pickle.

Aaron, being an all-around good guy, was doing his best not to laugh, and he was helping me try to figure out how best to escape. All of a sudden, two large dogs came bounding around the corner, followed by their owner. A jovial middle-aged woman, she laughed uproariously, then asked if I needed help.

A note about me: I do not like dogs. I really really don't like dogs. I don't like your dogs when I'm sitting in your living room being introduced to your mini-poodle, and I don't like your dogs when I'm in your backyard being leg-humped by your retriever. I especially don't like your dogs when I'm standing one-legged on a steep, slippery hill with my foot stuck in a bicycle.

I don't spend much time thinking about my mortality, let alone the mechanism by which I will one day let slip this mortal coil. However, I'm pretty sure my inevitable demise will not involve being nudged out of a slippery toe-hold by a dog, being knocked unconscious by the bike that is still attached to my foot, and drowning in the 3 inches of water at the base of the climb. Yet that's all I could picture at the time.

Thankfully, they moved on, the woman still laughing boisterously. I redoubled my efforts to force my foot out from between the spokes, but that was about as effective as using a Doritos bag as a condom. It was with a bowed head that I conceded that I needed Aaron's help.

Aaron, being an all-around good guy, didn't gloat much. Within about 20 seconds, we'd freed my foot and were on our way... but not before he snapped some photos.

This is where Karma comes in. Back in September, Jay got a flat tire during the Westwood Velo 'cross race. Of course I ran to get him a spare wheel, but rather than do the actual work myself, I took a photo of him doing the wheel swap.
Today, Aaron acted as the iron fist of Karma. When capturing the scene "for posterity", he took an eerily similar picture.

Please enjoy the laugh at my expense. Lord knows the dog-owner did.

Oh, and for those who are curious, the wheel is a Sunrim CR-18 29 rear wheel, and it's still true.