Beware the Ides of March

This morning had me itching to get on the bike since it's been warming up here and I haven't ridden to work for a few weeks. In my excitement I didn't bother to check the calendar. I doubt Julius Caesar realized he was halfway through March, either.

A soothsayer's warning had even come to me over the weekend as I cracked open the latest edition of Adventure Cyclist magazine:

Nevertheless, I wasn't the least bit concerned with applying too much front break or going over the handlebars this morning. I mainly focused on spotting areas of refreeze since I had recently swapped out the studded tires in favor of normal tread. Perhaps this distraction, or my blinding ambition to get to work as quickly as possible, kept me from exercising proper braking form.

To be honest, I don't know what caused me to fly over the handlebars, but it was likely more than neglecting to lock my elbows. All I remember is riding upright one second, and being catapulted face-first to the ground the next.

As I shook off the confusion, I sensed a looming threat: my bicycle, a trusted traveling companion, hovered above me ready to strike, moved to act by gravitational force. I didn't even have time to muster an "Et tu, Brute?" before it came crashing down on my back and sent me crumpling to the ground.

Thankfully, nothing was seriously injured on me or the bike and I got back in the saddle and completed my commute, which is more than Julius Caesar can say.