For the second Wednesday in a row, I met up with the crew for cyclocross practice. We had a bigger group this week with Eric Marshall, Peter Nicoll, and two other non-Coppis joining up with myself, Judd, and Mel. With all the rains of the past week, we decided to avoid Lake Fairfax and Difficult Run and to instead hit the gravel heading West.

We started tearing up the trail. I was feeling strong and having a blast until the tril decided to tear me up. Riding behind Eric, I entered a section not far from Orbital that I've ridden many times heading East. It's easir that way as you see the ruts in the ground a little more easily. Since I was riding behind Eric, I couldn't see very far ahead and I didn't pick up the rut very fast. When I did, I was able to get up on the ridge going around it--or so I thought. Apparently I got the front wheel up there, but the back wheel decided to stay put and I went down hard.

We were probably riding in the 18-20 mph range and I hit the ground on my right side and slid for a ways. The gravel I was in was about like what you'd put in your driveway. It hurt. I layed there for a short bit composing myself and letting the sting of fresh flesh sink in. I was bleeding on my right forearm and right hip. There was quite a bit of dirt in my arm. My shorts were only slightly ripped. My right shifter was pushed way out of alignment and had some dirt inside it. My bartape had a huge gash in it.

I picked myself up and reseated the chain, which despite my 2 guards, came off after the crash. We continued on West until the crossing with 28 and then turned around to head East. On the way back, we played a game where the guy in front would yell, "Run," and then we'd all dismount, carry the bike over some imaginary barriers, shoulder it and then run for a bit, all before remounting the bike and continuing on our way. We did that a few times before making it back to Michael Faraday Ct.

Once we got back, it was time for Peter and I to start heading home to Arlington. I was feeling pretty whipped at that point, but we kept the pace very respectable. I even raced him up the hill at 66 and got a little mroe than I bargained for. I was wearing the dots, however, so I had to gut that out and nip him at the top. From there we mostly chilled out and I turned off at the Custis Trail.

When I got home, David gave me a hand cooking while I scrubbed my wounds in the shower. After we had the meal ready, I was feeling weak, the way I did a couple weeks ago when I was sick. I forced down the food though since I hadn't really eaten much since lunch. Then I called it a night and tried to figure out how I could sleep without bleeding all over my sheets. Ugh. I'd post pictures of the carnage, but Jess has my camera up in PA.