Categories: Guest Article

Guest Article: I’ve Fallen for You

photo: paramount pictures

What does this have to do with the Worlds? Nothing, but it makes me laugh and includes a wicked photograph so this is the guest article today. @roadslave joined the 2012 Keepers Tour for the full week of riding and ranting and he was excellent at both. He rode at the front with a Chris Horner smile and now he admits to only riding for four years. Fair enough, with only four years in, there is still time for a few firsts. Here is one.

VLVV, Gianni.

It should be no surprise that, having grown up in the 80s, one of my favourite movies of all time is Top Gun. There aren’t many situations in life that can’t be fitted to one of the many great quotes from the film, and there are certainly many that can be adapted to cycling (“It’s too steep, I’m switching to guns”, etc). Anyhow, you remember that bit when Shorty gets told off in class for flying too aggressively, (“gutsiest move I ever saw, man”) and gets on his huge, err, throbbing motorbike to be chased through San Diego by Kelly McGillis?

“My review of your performance was right on, in my professional opinion”

“Jesus, and you call me reckless. When I fly, my crew and my plane come first”

 “I’m gonna finish my sentence. My review of your performance was right on. I see some real genius in your flying. But I can’t say that in there. I was afraid they’d see right through me. I don’t want anyone to know that I’ve fallen for you.”

Now, I’ve been cycling for a little over four years. I’ve covered tens of thousands of kilometres on six bikes in seven countries on two continents. I’ve bored most people I know with how much I love cycling. I’ve begun to follow the pro cyclists, and have even ridden some of their rides. And I’ve spent too long on sites like this talking about cycling when I could have been using the Internet for useful stuff, like, err, porn. But, up until last month, I’d never fallen for it. I have now, and boy, it hurt.

It was a stoopid fall. A through-and-off at the end of a fabulous long ride, out with a buddy on a cold, crisp winter’s morning in the hills southwest of London. On the drag back into town, a miscommunication – I thought he was going for it, but he was actually sitting up. Our wheels overlapped. He steered the way he thought would get me out of it, but no. A 50/50 chance, and the house won. BOOM! Tarmac, Roadslave, Roadslave, tarmac. Introductions at over 45 kmh are always going to be a little bit rushed, but even so. Helmet was cracked in two, shredded sacred garments out at the elbows (sorry, Frank), leg warmers and gloves in tatters, road rash on face, elbows and knees, and the most sodding awful bruise on my hip.

Amazingly, other than it looking like someone had taken an angle-grinder to my Ergo-levers and saddle, Bike No. 1 was ok. As, by and large was I. Nothing was broken, no concussion, no lasting damage (I hope). Which was amazing, given the physics of the deceleration, the road, my weight, and ending up on my face in the oncoming traffic lane.

Adrenalin is a wonderful thing. I was on my feet in no time, picked up and checked the bike, rode the last 20 km home, and hosted 20 five-year olds, plus parents, for my son’s fifth birthday. It was only later that things went a bit doolalley. The shock came that afternoon. Uncontrollable shaking, feeling faint, wanting to throw up. Mind you, that could have been the impact of the 20 five-year olds. The stiffness came the next morning (written with a straight face… probably the most painful bit of the whole episode was getting out of bed that day.) The whiplash came on Day Three. I still can’t fully look over my right shoulder and there is still bruising weeks after the event. I won’t go into details, but if you’ve ever watched CSI, you’ll know about blood pooling and gravitational effects. Suffice it to say, I’ve had some swelling and discolouration in some strange and unexpected places.

I was off the bike for six days. Irritable, bored, grumpy. I had been planning on doing a big block of training just prior to Christmas. Why?

a) It’s what the pros do.

b) It just sounds cool. “I’m doing a big block now to lay the foundations for the cobbles in April”

c) I was changing jobs, so had the time on my hands but the training was out the window. I moped about the house, lost and forlorn.

When I did get back on, yes there was residual soreness and stiffness, but it made my heart soar to be back in the saddle. I honestly believe that was when the healing process really started. Admittedly, I rode like Nick Clegg/Barack Obama (apply to whichever country is appropriate, insert your own weak politician, etc). I had no power, no stamina, no confidence. As my US cycling sensei told me, my body had basically gone into blue screen mode. But it still felt so good to be back riding again. I (or rather my backside) became a bit of a local celebrity, and we did the round of Christmas parties, gallery openings, and for a few seconds, trended on Twitter.

The Stig, our tame racing cyclist, was pretty matter of fact:

“Bummer.  Biggest cause of accidents. Period. You hear the ‘Zippp’, you prepare for the worst. Last time I crashed, it was in the finishing sprint of a big crit and wheels overlapped. Tore so much skin off my thigh that I was in hospital for weeks getting a square foot of skin graft. I was lucky. The other guy lost his thumb, and the third guy fractured his skull and was in a coma for two weeks – he was the only guy not writhing around on the ground screaming like a little girl.”

It was the response of my non-cycling friends and family that surprised me the most: zero sympathy, lots of anger (“how could you have been so stupid? To pick today, of all days, when you knew we had the kids party?”) and much encouragement to take up golf (thanks, Dad). When she saw the bruise, and the red mist had cleared, the wife forced me to go to the ER. The doctor’s response was priceless; “So, you fell off your bike, and you have a bruise and your wife has made you come to have it checked out?  Well, it looks fine to me.” He was looking at the small road rash above my left eyebrow. “That’s not the bruise I want checked out… this is.” “JEEESUS!” At which point he ran off, leaving me with my pants down, to get the other doctors into the cubicle. What, you want a second opinion? “No, I just want them to see this.”

The most thoughtful response was from my US cycling sensei via email. I think it’s worth sharing in its entirety:

“The overlapped wheel. No one gets away for long without going down because of that. Ask the pros. It amazes me how often big groups go down in the peloton because of it. For all the riding you’ve done – and challenging riding at that – you can feel good that it hasn’t happened before. As you now know, the worst part of those falls is that you literally get catapulted into the pavement; there’s no sliding or deceleration of one’s body. Of the several times I’ve gone down, about 1/3 are because of overlap. I broke my hand once. Glad to hear the bike is ok – but a shame about the cosmetic damage. I can understand why the wife is upset, as I know you do too. Funny – if you’d gotten injured in a car crash, it would be nothing but sympathy from her. But because you (we), as grown men, choose to dress up in tights like superheroes to pedal half the day on the open road on what most adults see as a child’s toy… well, I think most see it as borderline selfish, risk-taking behaviour… how do you explain to the kids that their dad got seriously injured doing something that was totally voluntary. Hence, IMO, the disproportionate reactions to cyclists on the road (how dare they enjoy themselves while I have things to do!). That’s just my take on it… I know plenty of guys that pretty much stopped cycling after they had kids – not just because of time constraints, but also because of knowing how bad cycling crash injuries can be and how it might impact their families. Personally, I think that was an extreme position for them to take, but then, I don’t have kids.”

Now, I know it’s supposed to be taboo to talk about this stuff – and, indeed, it is in breach of the new Rule #81. (This did happen before its introduction.) But I really don’t know if I’m lucky – after all, it could have been a helluva lot worse. Or am I plain idiotic (see Rob’s excellent article on overlapping wheels), unlucky (proper cyclists rarely fall), or normal (this is just something that happens from time to time, so get used to it)?

Forget the responses of non-cyclists – we tolerate them at the best of times. All of my cycling buddies gave me comradely and knowing looks, as if I’d passed some rite of passage, and was now a proper cyclist. Have I? Am I? Just the other day, @Houdini was describing another rider to me: “He rides like someone who hasn’t fallen off yet.” Before this fall, I would have had no idea what he was on about, but now I get it totally.

As with most things cycling, when in doubt, I look to the pros. And my conviction is that falling is a rite of passage. It’s what proper cyclists do. Getting back on defines the true cyclist. Hoogerland is defined by his fall, Cavendish either wins or crashes and burns. There is no middle ground. Part of our love for JENS! is because we saw him bounce his face down a mountain in 2007, or in 2011 when he went down twice, swore at the camera crew, got back on and up to the front, and rode tempo for the next hour in service of his (undeserving) team leaders.

Then there is the dark side. We know these falls can lead to the bad places where we do not want to go. These occasional tragedies unite cycling like no other event. IMHO there is nothing more noble, more heartbreaking, or that stirs greater pride, than a neutralised, mournful peloton. Self-shackled race horses. Chapeau Millar, the dignified master of ceremonies for the last horror, grew as a cyclist and as a human that day.

So, while a first fall is a rite of passage, it is also a warning of where not to go and what not do to. For each fall we get up from, we have the adrenaline-primed happiness of knowing it could have been much, much worse.

I am a cyclist, today is a good day, today I rode on.

[dmalbum path=”/velominati.com/content/Photo Galleries/j.andrews3@comcast.net/Nigel/”/]

roadslave

roadslave believes that we don't choose cycling... it chooses us. He tried for 35 years to hide from his destiny, playing front-row rugby, and being too stubborn to admit he was too small to row, until he was dragged, kicking and screaming to the prologue of the 2007 Tour de France in London. From that moment on, he was hooked. He lives in London, has two children and a long-suffering wife, and believes that somewhere, deep inside of him is a perfectly competent cyclist waiting to get out. It's a work in progress... XXL in 2009, XL in 2010 and L in 2011... eventually he'll be wearing a jersey that doesn't cover his (by that stage, bony) arse. However, at that point he'll probably have to stop drinking bottles and bottles of red wine, his other great passion. His favourite rules are Rule 9 and Rule 12... Rule V is, obviously, compulsory. He never rides alone, because inside his head he hears voices: Jorgen Leth's voiceover man, Paul Sherwen, Phil Liggett. He secretly believes that 'Breaking Away' is a documentary, and that 'The Rider' is only a work of fiction.

View Comments

  • @ralph

    @ten B OK, that's not an "ouchie;" that is an outtake from a horror movie! Did he get back on a bike (or even walk) with that leg again?

    It was 10 days ago, so he's still laid up. He did IM Mont Tremblant a few weeks ago, so he's not lacking in the V department. He's hoping to make a full recovery, and get onto the new P3 he bought a week before the accident (luckily he was on his old bike).

  • @minion

    @ErikdR

    It's adrenaline I reckon - after a fall you've obviously put yourself in danger and your body's natural reaction is to juice yourself up to get out of danger and get somewhere safe. It sucks when it wears off, your body cools down and things start throbbing. 

     

    Minion, that's spot on as far as I can tell - Adrenalin would trigger a sort of "fight or flight" reaction, yes? And as there's usually nothing left to fight after trying to punch the tarmac out, you'd feel compelled to get the hell away from the scene. Very good point.

    Over almost forty years, on and off, I must have cycled more than 100,000 km, and I've had 5 crashes in all - three major ones that required a recovery period, and two minor ones that I just rode away from more or less undamaged.

    I remember The 3 major ones vividly: the first was, partly, caused by monumental stupidity on my part, the second was just a matter of being weirdly unfortunate and the third was boringly predictable. They all sucked, big time... but none required hospitalisation or anything. And you know what? I actually consider myself pretty lucky with regard to my crashing statistics. I'll most likely find out what number 4 has in store for me, at some point - although I must admit that I ride a lot more cautiously nowadays then when I was young(er)

    I'm still chuckling a bit at @roadslaves' British take on the matter, though: "terribly sorry to have fallen". A good sense of humour in the face of mishap - that's the ticket...

    Something else that I find impressive, is the fact that even a hip/ass that looks the way @roadslaves' does at the moment, and yes, even a knee that looks as horribly demolished as the one on @Ten B's brother, can actually heal - and be healed - with time (and in the case of  @Ten B's brother, with help, of course...)

    I'm absolutely awestruck by these self-repairing mechanisms, or whatever, that are at work in the human body, which can transform a road rash that looks like uncooked hamburger into a patch of slightly-paler-than-usual skin in a matter of months. The old lady who, as Tim Krabbé puts it, so richly rewards those few who still can be bothered to woo her - i.e Mother Nature - is a class act in my opinion. 

     

     

     

  • @doubleR

    * Fractured right clavicle
    * Bruised ribs
    * Pneumothorax (partially collapsed right lung)
    * Road rash all over my right side
    * Crushing headache for two days (CT scan was negative).

    So, here I sit on the sofa, loopy on Norco with a machine circulating cold water around my shoulder. My wife is already telling me that cycling is too dangerous, and that I should give it up.

    As much as I love cycling, the pain I've been through in the last six days has given me pause. For the rest of you-were you temped at all to hang up your cleats? When you did get back on the road, were you apprehensive of every car, every piece of debris in the road? How long did it take for your confidence to return?

    Ouch, ouch... and ouch. That must have been a really bad one you've had there. Yikes.

    As for being tempted to give up cycling altogether: yes, I've certainly had that thought cross my mind from time to time during recovery from painful crashes. And with regard to feeling completely comfortable about getting back on the road, I'd say you'll be looking at months rather than weeks, like @Nate says. Trying to force things will probably do you no good, as you might be at risk of getting a bit too tense out there - and that is never a good thing when riding. The 'trick', if there is one, could be to take it slow, and start out by avoiding, as much as you can, situations where you know things can get hectic. Re-gain your confidence, as it were.

    And for what it's worth: we can (also) get badly hurt doing something far less enjoyable than cycling. I once came out of a supermarket carrying an armful of groceries and tripped over a stupid piece of plastic band, of the type that is wrapped around cardboard boxes. Tried (and failed miserably) to save my quart of milk and jar of orange juice from exploding all over the pavement, fell hard and broke my fucking elbow. If I'd be allowed a choice as to where and how I'll get bone fractures in the future, I'd pick cycling any time of the day.

    Good luck, man - get well soon, and ride prudently

  • @ErikdR

    @doubleR

    * Fractured right clavicle
    * Bruised ribs
    * Pneumothorax (partially collapsed right lung)
    * Road rash all over my right side
    * Crushing headache for two days (CT scan was negative).

    So, here I sit on the sofa, loopy on Norco with a machine circulating cold water around my shoulder. My wife is already telling me that cycling is too dangerous, and that I should give it up.

    As much as I love cycling, the pain I've been through in the last six days has given me pause. For the rest of you-were you temped at all to hang up your cleats? When you did get back on the road, were you apprehensive of every car, every piece of debris in the road? How long did it take for your confidence to return?

    Ouch, ouch... and ouch. That must have been a really bad one you've had there. Yikes.

    As for being tempted to give up cycling altogether: yes, I've certainly had that thought cross my mind from time to time during recovery from painful crashes. And with regard to feeling completely comfortable about getting back on the road, I'd say you'll be looking at months rather than weeks, like @Nate says. Trying to force things will probably do you no good, as you might be at risk of getting a bit too tense out there - and that is never a good thing when riding. The 'trick', if there is one, could be to take it slow, and start out by avoiding, as much as you can, situations where you know things can get hectic. Re-gain your confidence, as it were.

    And for what it's worth: we can (also) get badly hurt doing something far less enjoyable than cycling. I once came out of a supermarket carrying an armful of groceries and tripped over a stupid piece of plastic band, of the type that is wrapped around cardboard boxes. Tried (and failed miserably) to save my quart of milk and jar of orange juice from exploding all over the pavement, fell hard and broke my fucking elbow. If I'd be allowed a choice as to where and how I'll get bone fractures in the future, I'd pick cycling any time of the day.

    Good luck, man - get well soon, and ride prudently

    The timing of my crash was such that the road season was over anyway. I had hung up the bike just before my VMH and I got together, then when I started riding/ racing again, I've had good luck. Though I could have done another race or 2 post crash/ healing, she wasn't too excited about that. Time heals all wounds like they say, and come this spring, I'll be back at it I'm sure. I get cranky if I can't get out and ride or do something physical (it's the time of year to rock climb here). 

  • @ChrisO

    Exactly... this thread is like sending a gilt-edged invitation to A Fate c/- Doom House, Superstition Road, Curseville.

    I'm doing a mountain ride next Friday with a descent where I would normally be hitting around 80km/h and I'm going to be thinking of all these f*cking photos and horror stories.

    It's still not enough to make me wear a helmet though.

    You're riding a mountain bike without a helmet? Because? 

    You're a moron. 

  • It's a year ago today since my last off.  The weird thing about it is that I remember for a couple of weeks beforehand thinking that I was due for a big one.

    @doubleR - you have my sympathies, chest drains are a bitch.  When I had mine put in it was fine until the morphine wore off...

  • @Buck Rogers

    Fucking awesome read!  Totally laughing out loud and your line about "That guy rides like someone who has not fallen off yet" is perfect! Totally lexicon worthy in my opinion but perhaps too long.  Thanks for sharing.

     

    Vertino - the disconcerting feeling that comes over you when you get too close to contemplating crashes.
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