Elevated Heart Rate

I'm riding my bike on the Big Papio trail, wondering if my heart rate was elevated.

I approached one of the underpasses where the trail passes under the busy street.

This particular underpass was curved so you really couldn't see up ahead.

I zipped down the grade, staying on the right side of the trail in case someone was coming the other way, pedaling hard so that I could make it up the hill on the other side.

I reach the curve, look ahead, and see a lawn mower coming at me in the middle of the trail.

I ain't talking about a wimpy push mower.

I'm talking an industrial size, as-wide-as-the-trail cutting swath of doom, riding lawn mower.

I'm sure my face turned into a mask of abject panic as I put a death grip on my rear brake lever.

My rear tire skidded, the rear end of the bike wagged around like a crazed fish, and, to my relief and amazement, I managed to stay on two wheels.

The mower dude pulled over out of my way and we passed each other with a wave.

An uneventful end to a potentially disastrous event.

Yes, my heart rate was elevated.