Sometimes, winter reminds you exactly why our region of the country has a "biking season" and an "off season."
This morning, I rolled the bike out of the garage onto a patch of what looked like just a dusting of fresh, powdery snow over the concrete. Turns out, thanks to my south-facing garage and the resulting daily thaw/refreeze cycles, there was a thick cake of ice under that snow. I got a leg over the bike, pushed off, turned the pedals over once, and POW. I was on the ground, flailing like an upside-down turtle. Ever try to get out from under a bike, stand up, and get that bike back on its tires on ice? Ain't easy.
Somehow, the nose of my saddle hit the back of my left knee in the fall, making a nice throbbing knot on the tendon. My bum back is griping a little too, though I can't tell if that's from the fall or from favoring the achy left leg when I walk. Otherwise, I'm unharmed -- save for my pride, since that must have been the most comical slow-speed smackdown ever.
Take note, winter cyclists: Studded tires won't always save you from stupidity.