It has been just over 4 weeks since my bike crash. The only lingering damage are the scars on my face, elbows, knees, and legs; the touch up paint on my bike; and the flashing memory of the crash.
I was nervous but excited to start out on our long ride that day, Saturday, June 16th. We were riding with our German neighbor and friend, Bertram, with the plans to ride around 75 miles on the "round the river" loop. The weather was perfect and slightly chilly when we began the ride around 8am. I made sure to put on my sunscreen - I didn't want to get another sunburn or silly tan lines, ha! We were riding at a nice pace making our way south east through East Petersburg, Landisville, and Columbia on our way to cross the Susquehanna River into Wrightsville. At this point, we made our way south and traveled along the river towards the Maryland line. There were some really decent climbs along Long Level road and I was feeling pretty strong and confident at this point. As we continued south, I remember looking at my speedometer and we were about 2.5 hours into the ride and I thought, yeah, I'm doing ok so far but I should probably eat something of substance. After housing part of my citrus smoothie powerbar, we began our decent into what is called Indian Steps, a popular hiking area, I came to learn.
It happened so fast, but so slow that I could see it play out in my mind. We descended down a hill that became dark, like the trees and shade engulfed you and welcomed you into their territory. I welcomed the shade as it was pretty sunny out that day and thanked the trees for their coverage. Before I knew it, we were letting gravity take us down the hill and it became very steep, very quickly. I began to pump my brakes but came to realize that this was not good enough as the road turned to the right very sharply...I had to slow down FAST and maintain control! Bertram was at the front and around the bend where I couldn't see him, then Joe was just in front of me. We couldn't make the turn. This became apparent. I saw Joe lock up his back tire, skid some into the next lane, then regain control. While I was observing all of that in front of me, I was thinking, "Shit, he's going to wreck and then I am going to wreck right into him. This is going to be really really bad." At this point, I really freaked out and tried to brake as hard as I possibly could so I could maintain control, make the turn, and avoid the embankment across the road. This did not happen. My back wheel locked up as I was leaning into the turn, just as Joe's did, and I thought, "Oh shit, this is it. Prepare for something ugly." My bike slid out from under me and I fell on my right side, slid across the road (thank god no cars were coming the other direction!), and hit the embankment on the other side of the road, all while going about 30mph. At that point, my bike and I separated and I felt like a rag doll getting tossed down a hill. I rolled around a little bit, which happened so quickly I couldn't even prepare for it. Once I came to a stop face down in some dirt, twigs, and rocks, I remember standing up quickly thanking my lucky stars I could move and feel everything. "Whew, that sucked but I'm ok. Shit, where is my bike?! Damnit, I just bought this damn thing and it's going to be so f'ed up. God, just let the frame be ok...I'll pay for anything else that needs to be replaced, just don't let the frame be cracked." "What the hell is on my glasses?" At this point, I took my glasses off to realize blood was running down my face and dripping on my glasses, shirt, and pants. When I hit the embankment, I flipped over, separated from my bike, and hit my head (yes, I was wearing a helmet) on a rock of some kind. As I was trying to figure out what the hell happened, Joe and Bertram were running up the hill towards me. They sat me down, got some water to wash out my wounds, and tried to find something to stop the bleeding. All of a sudden (probably not, but I was out of it at this point), some wonderful motorcycle riders were riding up the hill and saw me in distress - they were so wonderful to give us their first aid kit with some gauze pads, bandaids, and more water. As Bertram was the only one with a phone on him, we tried to figure out how to get ahold of our friends that live 15 mins away in Wrightsville to see if they could come pick me up - an ambulance and the ER seemed a little unnecessary since nothing was broken and I wasn't unconscious. Now, I know Joe and his "We'll put a bandaid on it and it'll be fine" sort of thinking and even he said, "Damn, you need stitches in that". So, it was determined that I needed stitches and should go to the Urgent Care center. It was probably a half hour after the crash that our friends, the Bowers, picked my sorry ass up and took me back to Lititz.
We were about 35 miles into our ride and the FURTHEST point away from home that we probably could have been on our ride. Go figure! So, I got some stitches in my head above my left eye (again), cleaned up the wounds, and got my pain pills. I asked the Dr. that stitched me up if I could run the next day - I was still thinking I had to get in 2 hours! She proceeded to tell me that I shouldn't do any activity for at least 48 hours and that I didn't have to worry about gaining weight in that amount of time. Oh lady, if you only knew why I was asking, but thanks for your concern. I felt like shit the rest of the day, couldn't sleep that night (mostly from emotional trauma), and felt even worse the next day which was Father's Day. My entire body hurt like I was hit by a mac truck - I could barely lift my arms b/c my shoulders were so sore from my arms flailing around. It was confirmed the next morning when I visited the ER that I did suffer a mild concussion and to take it easy. $100 down the drain to lay in some bed and have some joker ask me to continue to subtract 7 starting with 100. Buddy, I can't even do that when I am wide awake without a concussion! My Sunday was mostly relax, pain pills, sleep, laundry, pain pill, sleep. I did manage to drive to meet the in-laws for Father's Day dinner that night as Joe was golfing with his dad all day. I felt silly eating dinner out with a huge bandage on my dome. I got some weird looks like I was a mental patient that escaped from the institution.
I took the whole next week off from training and tried to relax, tend to my wounds, and recover. Thankfully it was a scheduled "recovery" week in our plan, but I'm sure it wasn't intended to be like this :) It was difficult getting back into the swing of things since the first week back was somewhat hot - especially the weekend. I had problems just making it through an hour and a half run - what gives? I'm guessing my body was still healing and my concussion symptoms were lingering.
I've been spending the past 4 weeks trying to build back my strength, endurance in the heat, and my confidence. I am SO hesitant going down hills where I can't see around the bend, even if I rode the course before. You better believe I am taking my time, being cautious, and ready on the brakes. I was feeling so great after Eagleman and was starting to believe that I was in a good place in my training - I could really pull this Ironman off after all! Everything shattered when I wrecked. The confidence I had and believing in my ability was gone. It was also emotionally tough just sitting on my couch for a week...I can't remember the last time I actually did that. Maybe 4 or 5 days, but never over a week (8 days!) straight! I felt lazy. I felt like a failure.
After two weeks back into the training and still feeling slightly off, I said, "Time to pick myself up by the boot straps, get back on the horse as they say, and stop feeling sorry for myself." Whaaaa, I wrecked my bike. Whaaa, I had to get stitches in my head. Whaaaa, I have scars on my body. Yes, I was scared shitless and wouldn't wish that fear upon my worst enemy. But damnit, I'm going to try to learn from this and become a stronger, more wise athlete out of it. I haven't put in this much time and effort training to just lie down and quit because I am scared. Would I just quit the Ironman if I wrecked and had some road rash and bruises? Hell no. Wrap that shit up and let me continue on my journey. Hopefully this wreck has taught me that I CAN do this...I can't let my mind defeat me. I will run, walk, or crawl across that finish line. I am too stubborn to give up...I WILL become an Ironman.
