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Mountain Biking Massacre

A couple of days ago in Cape Cod, Ben and I decided to go mountain biking.  We drove about a half hour to Hyannis to the  Cape Cod Pathways.  We started the ride, and for some reason I was feeling a bit more adventurous than normal.  I even recall actually saying to Ben “I’m really keeping up with you a lot better than I was before”.  This was my first mistake…overconfidence.  I was feeling really good, actually riding on the downhill parts and pedaling through the sandy parts…basically feeling pretty comfortable throughout the whole experience.

It all seemed too good to be true.  Probably because it was.  I officially counted my eggs before they were hatched.  We were on our way back and I decide to go down this hill a little more (ok, a lot more) steep than normally I would.  This was my second, and nearly fatal mistake.  I thought that since it was a small hill I could totally handle it.  I was wrong (shocker, I know).  Anyways, so I get half way down the hill, and my left foot and petal catch a rock, causing my handlebars to flip around and ultimately resulting in my bike flipping over my left shoulder bringing me with it.  Cool.  Luckily, I didn’t break any bones, especially because I have a very important wedding to be at in a couple days, but I do have one badass bruise to show for it…ouch!

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