Round trip, the bike ride for our kickball game was 20 miles. With four miles remaining, we were almost home and mentally prepared to strip out of our cycling gear and enjoy a cool shower -- It was July in Phoenix and we'd just rode 16 miles + played an entire kick ball game. We were hot and stinky.
With the sun setting, we hopped onto the sidewalk to avoid blind spots in the upcoming road. And I really hate riding a road bike on a sidewalks. You feel every seam, crack, and dip in the sidewalk's surface. But i hate blind spots in road at dusk more.
With me leading the way, we hit 15 mph as we finished climbing a hill. We were not prepared for the sidewalk to suddenly end with a five or six inch sheer drop down to jagged, unfinished asphalt.
How did I miss something so large? 1. It was dusk. 2. We were cresting a hill so our visibility was limited. 3. We weren't prepared to ride in the dark and had no lights for our bikes. (Our kick ball game had been delayed and finished ninety minutes later than we planned.) 4. The street lights in that section of the street were not working. 5. This was our first time riding this route.
I saw the drop at the very last second and tried to stop. Manda tried to stop. Her forward momentum became my forward momentum as she collided with the back of my bike.
The only part of my body I remember hitting the asphalt was my hip. The next memory was confusion about being splayed out in the street with my bike on top of me. I lifted my bike off me and made sure Manda was okay.
Moments passed in silence. Man, my hand hurt. I tell Manda, "I think I broke my hand." She didn't say much. She was still assessing her injuries.
A few moments pass in silence. The pain in my hand was now being echoed by my elbow. I tell Manda, "I think I broke my arm." I looked down and noticed blood running down my leg as a man walked by. He didn't offer to help.
More moments pass in silence. My arm was hurting more and more. I didn't feel my hip or my leg anymore.
What did we do next? We were roughly 4 miles from home. Did we need an ambulance? No. We ran down the checklist of our friends who lived nearby. None of them had a truck to haul our bikes. It was only 4 miles, we would walk.
A mile and a half later, it was completely dark outside, I was starting to go into shock and Manda was having a hard time pushing both bikes. All I could think about was getting home. After a quick check of the bikes, repairing the chain and realigning the brakes, we decided to try and ride the last two and a half miles home.
My left arm was completely useless and I was scared to clip into my pedals. I decided to ride home with one hand, wearing my kickball cleats.
This was probably the dumbest and most dangerous decision I made this year.
Road bikes are squirrelly in general and are even more so when the handlebars are unbalanced by one hand use. I nearly crashed a dozen times and each time I would reflexively grab the handle bars with my left hand. Each and every time I did this an incredible, sharp, breath taking pain shot up my left arm. Combine this with having to ride long stretches in almost total darkness (no street lights) while cars fly past you in the bike lane and you end up with a broken cyclist who will most likely have anxiety and post traumatic stress problems for a very long time.
We did finally arrive home an hour later. We stripped off our cycling gear and assessed our injuries. I was unable to bend or rotate my left arm at all. I suspected it broken. My hip was an amazing array of only blood blisters. Turns out, biking gear has protective qualities. My knee was really swollen and had a gnarly bruise on its side. I removed pieces of asphalt from my calf. My leg was bleeding, but didn't need stitches.
Urgent care was a blur. A physical examination. X-rays. Bandages. Soft cast. Sling.
By the time we arrive home from Urgent Care, I could not lift my head unassisted. With my entire left arm in a soft cast I had to take a bath to rinse off all the blood, asphalt, sweat, and antiseptic/ointments. It was the longest bath in history because Manda had to support my head the entire time.
Manda, thankfully escaped with minor scrapes and bruises. The morning after our crash she was able to have her gall bladder out as scheduled.
We took stock of our gear a few days after the accident:
- The large chunk missing from the back of my helmet made it very clear how much stress my neck was under when my head hit the ground. I am lucky I did not sustain a concussion.
- The tears in my Camelback backpack and cracked feeder tube illustrated the punishment it took protecting my ribs and spine.
- The large scratches and gashes on the palms of my cycling gloves reminded it could have been so much worse
After 4-5 doctor and specialist appointments my injuries were listed as:
- hair line fracture in the elbow
- sprained neck;
- sprained elbow;
- sprained wrist;
- broken bones in my wrist and hand;
- minor cuts and abrasions.
- anxiety and post traumatic stress
Six weeks after the crash:
- I still cannot drive my car down that two and a half mile stretch.
- Certain sounds and smells put me back on that bike in the dark trying to get home.
- I now have lights permanently installed on all by bikes
- I just started seeing a therapist to manage the anxiety and rediscover my joy of cycling.
- I am still healing. I have another 3 weeks in the splint for my wrist. ,
Despite this setback, we are still addicted to cycling. To quote the Terminator: "We'll be back".
Peace Out.
