This was the second day with clear sunshine, and the temperature even got above freezing in the afternoon, so I thought I'd give the path a try for the ride home. For about a mile it was fine. My 700x28's sliced right through the crunchy stuff and had enough traction on the solid ice. As long as I stayed up and straight, which I did. The hard-won skills from the last day of snowfall (three years ago
) were coming back to me and I thought I had it licked. Even the thicker snow on the wood bridges, no problem. Until I reached a really weird section about a half mile long. Flat, straight, out in the open it was solidly covered with a thick layer. I don't know why it didn't melt like everywhere else in direct sunlight, maybe the storm dumped twice as much there, or it stayed colder or something. Even the GPS went haywire on that stretch. But it was frozen underneath - no surprise there - and covered with a mix of crunchy, compacted, ruts, hard crumbly stuff and soft patches. It all looked the same, that's just how it felt. I've never seen that. I'd be going smooth and easy for a dozen feet and then the back would fishtail with no warning, rhyme or reason, over and over again for the whole length. I was down to under 6 mph and my bike isn't even geared that low so it was tough for me.
I did get through it finally without hitting the ground or stopping, and I really thought I could make the rest of the trip on the path, but I bailed out to the streets instead. I'm having a plate taken out of my collarbone tomorrow morning and I couldn't shake the mental image of falling and breaking it or the other side just 12 hours before the surgery, which would make it all kind of pointless. Wondering if I might get a discount for a two-fer - that's the kind of irony that the Universe likes to throw at me from time to time. So I'm not sure whether to feel proud of myself for my discretion or ashamed for the lacking valor. I wonder if I'll be up to commuting again by Monday or Tuesday.