Ouch!

I ride to work a few days a week. It’s 15 miles each way, mostly on busy roads, so it’s not my idea of a great ride, but it’s loads better than not riding at all. In fact, sometimes it’s the only riding I get to do, what with busy work life, busy family life and busy weekends.

Yesterday it rained all the way in, and after 15 miles of safely weaving my way round lunatic car drivers, I managed to fall off just outside work. The entrance to our basement car park is down a cobbled street. The cobbles are polished to a beautiful slippery shine by the tyres of our director’s Mercs and BMWs and become decidedly glassy when wet. Although I took it nice and carefully, my front wheel washed out and I went down like a bag of bricks. I managed to scrape and bruise my hip and knee and somehow hurt my thumb.

When I rode home that evening, I found I couldn’t really grip the bars, and had to call off my planned mountain bike ride (we were meeting up at Mam Tor, and it was looking like a nice evening…).

Today the thumb is a bit purple and swollen, like something off a Tom and Jerry cartoon. I don’t think it is broken. I hope not – the 3 Peaks is only a week away.