When we heard this, we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, “Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.”
Acts 21:12-13 (context)
I mentioned the other day that I had achieved a new personal best in low-temperature riding (8°F, -13°C). Today we got up to a temperature of 58.9°F (14.9°C). Frankly, I have given up trying to predict what temperature we might experience next; I just carry lots of extra clothes with me and hope for the best.
Unfortunately the best did not happen on my ride this morning, when — as I struggled against sustained 25-mph headwinds with gusts up to almost 40 mph — I hit a pothole. A small pothole, mind you. I have hit it numerous times before with no ill effects. But this time I heard a metallic snap, after which I noticed a wobble in my front wheel. I stopped and checked my quick release, eyeballed the spokes (none clearly broken), and checked the fender mounts. Everything seemed in order. But as I finished the ride to work, I could clearly see my front wheel wobbling.
To make a long story short (I know, I know; “too late!”), I checked the spokes more carefully when I got to work. One of the spokes took just the lightest touch and suddenly sprang away from the wheel. It had sheared off right where it goes into the rim. This is a first for me, even with over 12,000 miles of riding under my belt, so the spoke being broken both surprised and did not surprise me. I had already deduced that something had gone wrong with a spoke when I hit the pothole. Yet when I found the broken spoke, I still walked around in shock for a while. Why is that? In fact, I walked most of the way to the shower before I realized I had forgotten to exchange my biking shoes for shower flip-flops.
People who know about these things tell me that riding the wheel to the bike shop isn’t unduly taking my life into my hands, so 3:45 will see me off to Landry’s again. The fine folks there report that they have one and only one spoke of the correct length for my wheel, and that they will fix it (and hopefully not botch it or find other broken/damaged spokes) and have me rolling on my way home in no time. I hope so. I feel like a little bit of my soul is broken.