|This is, of course, how my nickname came to be|
Call me Sandy Bottom Bracket. Actually, please don't. Although I find my new nickname--given to me by a female cycling friend--fabulous, I'm not sure if I want it to stick. This name was chosen for me on one of the messiest rides of the year. And I loved almost every minute of it.
|One of the prints I got to see|
|This is one of my favorites|
Needing to spend a bit of time outside, my husband and I then rolled over to one of our favorite bike shops and proceeded to harass a riding friend until she agreed to come out and play--really, no arm twisting was required. What was supposed to be a quick ride around lake Monona turned into a fit of laughter as we tried to navigate our way through roads covered in 2-3 inches of slush/ice/potholes/puddles. There were no good lines and I'm sure a snail could have passed us. A few miles down the road, conditions finally improved. As I picked up my cadence above five rpms, crunchy, grinding noises started to sing from my bottom bracket--now covered thick with sand, salt and road grime. And that my friend, is how I got my new name. The stripe of sand covering my entire backside didn't help.
On the way back, I was treated to a high five by another cycling friend coming home from work. A perfect end to a perfect day.