I had a big smash last week, leaving me in hospital with broken bits that have ruled me out of the USA Nationals. Its ironic really. I was concerned that I wasn't going to be competitive, and was just coming to terms with the fact that I would simply have to be satisfied with taking part. Now I won't even be doing that. The injuries have finished my season, and the way I crashed has caused me to re-evaluate on a number of levels. Let's have a look at that, but first, here's what happened.
I was out on my own on Sunday morning, with a brick ride/ run planned. I went to Hawk Point Loop over the GGB on the Trek, and worked hard all the way up the hill (recording my second-fastest time up there). It was damp, but I didn't worry too much about that, as I am used to riding in the wet. I crested the hill and waved to a rider I passed just before the summit, then went down the other side. Its a fast descent, that I've done before albeit in the dry, and I went through a few bends no problem. As I approached the long, sweeping left-hander I started to brake - as I thought - quite early. As I hit the brakes I was thinking about the time I'd gone down there on the TT bike and had problems getting the speed off as the TT bike's brakes are not too good. I braked earlier than I had on that day. But then the back wheel stepped out and I had to slacken off. I was going nearly 40MPH at this point and so was quickly running out of road. I pulled on the front brake and got another slide, and I knew - 50 yards away from the corner - that I was going to crash. it was just a question of how, and where, and how much it was going to hurt. The road sweeps left and then right, and although it is smooth the edges are all gravel. To the left there is a solid but low guard rail protecting the road from the cliffside. The cliff plummets down about 100 yards to the sea, so was not an option. in any case the guard rail was designed to hold a car back, but would basically just act as a lever point for a bike and catapult the rider over. Not good. Trying to get through the bend was out of the question, as the downhill coupled with the off camber would render that impossible. All the while I was assessing this I was working the brakes: rear, then front; both brakes balanced; varying pressure. Nothing was working; I was losing no speed at all, and I ran out of ideas, and out of road. I don't remember too much of the actual accident, but I remember hitting my head towards the latter stage. I don't know how far I travelled as I fell, I don't know what I hit, I don't know how long it all lasted. I just remember lying upside down on a retaining cable between two posts. I can't say if I was concussed or not. I tried to get up, and knew instantly that the collar bone had broken. I could feel it grating under the skin as I moved. Lots of other areas hurt too, and I felt very small and vulnerable. There was a lot of blood from somewhere but the pain was concentrated around my shoulder and back. I couldn't help myself from crying out in pain, in a sort of whimper which simultaneously felt a bit pathetic but somehow helpful. The cyclist I'd passed at the top of the hill approached and I felt a bit stupid, knowing he'd seen me pass and then zoom off down the hill. He probably thought then, "he's going too quick for this road in these circumstances" and now I'd proved him right. He was great, calling Jo with the news she probably dreads every time I go out: "Your husband's had a bit of an accident; he's conscious....." etc. I wouldn't like to make or receive that call. The guy kept me talking, checked out my vital signs, and put up with my continued whining. It turned out he had suffered almost the exact set of injuries I'd sustained. I couldn't do anything but lean against a post: I couldn't stand, or sit, or lean without a lot of pain, and it seemed like a long time until Jo arrived to take me to hospital. And there was the next problem: how do you go to hospital in the USA? Where's my credit card? I don't really know if the reality is as bad as my perception but I had visions of being turned away for being in the wrong place, or not having the right insurance. We arrived at UCSF and were immediately taken into care. They got us somewhere to park, offered a wheelchair (refused, obviously!) and got us into the emergency room. I had a lot of drugs - morphine I think - and took them gratefully. By this time I was used to the pain, it had become normal over the last hour or so, but it felt so good as the drugs kicked in. Over the next few hours I had several X-rays, CT scans on my kidneys, liver and head, and saw several doctors. They were really thorough, and all very, very caring. It seemed that I had done a thorough job on the shoulder, smashing the collar bone right out of alignment with a 3.5cm overlap, I'd cracked 3 ribs including number one which is apparently quite hard to do, and punctured both lungs. I had to spend a couple of nights in hospital while they "observed" me. Mainly concerned about the bang to the head, but also the lung punctures, even though they were only small.
So there we are - I got a bit beaten up, but all that is mending. I'll have an operation to plate the collar bone, and I should be OK to start training soon after that.
But there's the thing - how will I feel about that? That crash hurt, and I don't want to do that again. I smashed my helmet, meaning I hit something hard with my head, but I got away with it. I feel very, very lucky. I could have been laid up for a long while, or paralysed. Or dead. I love riding my bike, and I love competing, but I know that if I'm training, competing, then I'll commit. And if I do commit, I'll commit 100%, and that means I'll go down the hills as fast as I can.
I regularly pass people going downhill, and my UK nickname of "Budgie" is a reference to the canaries in UK mining history. They were put underground to test for lethal gas. If they died then it was too lethal for the miners. So my pals used to send me down a hill they were unsure of while we were out riding - if I survived then it was OK for them. It was where I got an edge racing, and I seek out edges, advantages, wherever I can. One of my favourite ever rides was back in January when my son Alex was over in San Francisco with us. We rode together a lot during that period and I loved it, we got close. Closer than we've managed in 30 years. Unfortunately I've bred two sons who are every bit as competitive in life as I am, which means that most of the time we can't actually get on very well, even though we are doing very similar sports and have very similar drivers, ambitions and enjoyments from life. But during that favourite ride Alex and I were going at it, hammer and tong, down this super fast hill. We cut each other up, took each other's lines and tried to out-do each other. He cut my line on the first turn and - with the arrogance of youth - thought that was the last he would see of me. I took him back on the next corner - take that you young buck! - and so we swapped. He won it, but I was there. It was good all round. Looking back at that ride now, and looking back at all the fast rides I've done, I'm uncertain. I'm afraid. I don't want to be this badly hurt again. When I get back on my bike, what will I think? How hard will I go? How hard should I go? I know that if I'm racing I won't be this analytical; I'll simply go as fast as I can get round the course. And so I have to think it through now, make my decisions outside of the race condition. I don't want to run scared, and I don't want to be a person who backs away from challenges, but I don't currently feel like I want to run such a risk any more.
I've never run scared of anything, and I've always thought you should tackle the tough stuff, take on the hard bits, face up to the demons, and basically take life on the chin. Whatever it deals out, make it work for you the best you can. But I've had this big warning. I'd be stupid not to listen to it. I spoke with Parag at work about it. Parag is a deep-thinking guy, whose opinion I respect. He suggested that it was a sign I should slow down, and that slowing down would actually be beneficial in releasing other aspects of my life to come. The problem I've got is that so many aspects of my life are closing just now - San Francisco, this job, working life as a whole. I'm not sure I can cope with my athletic life closing as well. I'm not ready to be a make-weight, and I haven't (currently) got a plan B.
I was out on my own on Sunday morning, with a brick ride/ run planned. I went to Hawk Point Loop over the GGB on the Trek, and worked hard all the way up the hill (recording my second-fastest time up there). It was damp, but I didn't worry too much about that, as I am used to riding in the wet. I crested the hill and waved to a rider I passed just before the summit, then went down the other side. Its a fast descent, that I've done before albeit in the dry, and I went through a few bends no problem. As I approached the long, sweeping left-hander I started to brake - as I thought - quite early. As I hit the brakes I was thinking about the time I'd gone down there on the TT bike and had problems getting the speed off as the TT bike's brakes are not too good. I braked earlier than I had on that day. But then the back wheel stepped out and I had to slacken off. I was going nearly 40MPH at this point and so was quickly running out of road. I pulled on the front brake and got another slide, and I knew - 50 yards away from the corner - that I was going to crash. it was just a question of how, and where, and how much it was going to hurt. The road sweeps left and then right, and although it is smooth the edges are all gravel. To the left there is a solid but low guard rail protecting the road from the cliffside. The cliff plummets down about 100 yards to the sea, so was not an option. in any case the guard rail was designed to hold a car back, but would basically just act as a lever point for a bike and catapult the rider over. Not good. Trying to get through the bend was out of the question, as the downhill coupled with the off camber would render that impossible. All the while I was assessing this I was working the brakes: rear, then front; both brakes balanced; varying pressure. Nothing was working; I was losing no speed at all, and I ran out of ideas, and out of road. I don't remember too much of the actual accident, but I remember hitting my head towards the latter stage. I don't know how far I travelled as I fell, I don't know what I hit, I don't know how long it all lasted. I just remember lying upside down on a retaining cable between two posts. I can't say if I was concussed or not. I tried to get up, and knew instantly that the collar bone had broken. I could feel it grating under the skin as I moved. Lots of other areas hurt too, and I felt very small and vulnerable. There was a lot of blood from somewhere but the pain was concentrated around my shoulder and back. I couldn't help myself from crying out in pain, in a sort of whimper which simultaneously felt a bit pathetic but somehow helpful. The cyclist I'd passed at the top of the hill approached and I felt a bit stupid, knowing he'd seen me pass and then zoom off down the hill. He probably thought then, "he's going too quick for this road in these circumstances" and now I'd proved him right. He was great, calling Jo with the news she probably dreads every time I go out: "Your husband's had a bit of an accident; he's conscious....." etc. I wouldn't like to make or receive that call. The guy kept me talking, checked out my vital signs, and put up with my continued whining. It turned out he had suffered almost the exact set of injuries I'd sustained. I couldn't do anything but lean against a post: I couldn't stand, or sit, or lean without a lot of pain, and it seemed like a long time until Jo arrived to take me to hospital. And there was the next problem: how do you go to hospital in the USA? Where's my credit card? I don't really know if the reality is as bad as my perception but I had visions of being turned away for being in the wrong place, or not having the right insurance. We arrived at UCSF and were immediately taken into care. They got us somewhere to park, offered a wheelchair (refused, obviously!) and got us into the emergency room. I had a lot of drugs - morphine I think - and took them gratefully. By this time I was used to the pain, it had become normal over the last hour or so, but it felt so good as the drugs kicked in. Over the next few hours I had several X-rays, CT scans on my kidneys, liver and head, and saw several doctors. They were really thorough, and all very, very caring. It seemed that I had done a thorough job on the shoulder, smashing the collar bone right out of alignment with a 3.5cm overlap, I'd cracked 3 ribs including number one which is apparently quite hard to do, and punctured both lungs. I had to spend a couple of nights in hospital while they "observed" me. Mainly concerned about the bang to the head, but also the lung punctures, even though they were only small.
So there we are - I got a bit beaten up, but all that is mending. I'll have an operation to plate the collar bone, and I should be OK to start training soon after that.
But there's the thing - how will I feel about that? That crash hurt, and I don't want to do that again. I smashed my helmet, meaning I hit something hard with my head, but I got away with it. I feel very, very lucky. I could have been laid up for a long while, or paralysed. Or dead. I love riding my bike, and I love competing, but I know that if I'm training, competing, then I'll commit. And if I do commit, I'll commit 100%, and that means I'll go down the hills as fast as I can.
I regularly pass people going downhill, and my UK nickname of "Budgie" is a reference to the canaries in UK mining history. They were put underground to test for lethal gas. If they died then it was too lethal for the miners. So my pals used to send me down a hill they were unsure of while we were out riding - if I survived then it was OK for them. It was where I got an edge racing, and I seek out edges, advantages, wherever I can. One of my favourite ever rides was back in January when my son Alex was over in San Francisco with us. We rode together a lot during that period and I loved it, we got close. Closer than we've managed in 30 years. Unfortunately I've bred two sons who are every bit as competitive in life as I am, which means that most of the time we can't actually get on very well, even though we are doing very similar sports and have very similar drivers, ambitions and enjoyments from life. But during that favourite ride Alex and I were going at it, hammer and tong, down this super fast hill. We cut each other up, took each other's lines and tried to out-do each other. He cut my line on the first turn and - with the arrogance of youth - thought that was the last he would see of me. I took him back on the next corner - take that you young buck! - and so we swapped. He won it, but I was there. It was good all round. Looking back at that ride now, and looking back at all the fast rides I've done, I'm uncertain. I'm afraid. I don't want to be this badly hurt again. When I get back on my bike, what will I think? How hard will I go? How hard should I go? I know that if I'm racing I won't be this analytical; I'll simply go as fast as I can get round the course. And so I have to think it through now, make my decisions outside of the race condition. I don't want to run scared, and I don't want to be a person who backs away from challenges, but I don't currently feel like I want to run such a risk any more.
I've never run scared of anything, and I've always thought you should tackle the tough stuff, take on the hard bits, face up to the demons, and basically take life on the chin. Whatever it deals out, make it work for you the best you can. But I've had this big warning. I'd be stupid not to listen to it. I spoke with Parag at work about it. Parag is a deep-thinking guy, whose opinion I respect. He suggested that it was a sign I should slow down, and that slowing down would actually be beneficial in releasing other aspects of my life to come. The problem I've got is that so many aspects of my life are closing just now - San Francisco, this job, working life as a whole. I'm not sure I can cope with my athletic life closing as well. I'm not ready to be a make-weight, and I haven't (currently) got a plan B.
