First, a disclaimer - my crash was a slow-motion comedy one. I wasn’t “sending it” over jumps or doing anything that could remotely be classed as “cool”. I was hanging on.
I’d been riding with some friends (all much better than me) in the Forest of Dean. The woods were chaos, people milling in the fire road then peeling off onto the surrounding trails. It had been raining pretty much non-stop until Sunday’s glorious blue skies, and the ribbons of banked trails were slippery, and caked in mud. Riding new trails in these conditions, while trying to keep up with friends (and battling the inner monologue telling you that you’re “just not in the mood”) is a bit of a recipe for disaster.
