Marco Velo meets the Kemmelberg
There’re two things certain in Cycling: pain, and more pain. How we attain either, each or both of them can present itself in many forms. When you take out your brand new bike for its maiden voyage, lean it against a wall at the pub apres ride and manage to gouge a chunk of paint of the seatstay when you stumble aboard after a pint too many, that hurts. Climbing a 22% cobbled wall, that hurts. The emptiness in your legs after 150km in the heat or cold and the only way home is up, yep that hurts. And crashing. That can hurt more than anything.
It’s not just the physical damage sustained in a bender that can make you cry, or want to. The longer term effects can be more painful than the actual bruises, cuts or broken bones. And when you start to think about crashing before anything has even happened, well that can fuck with your mind and produce stress that isn’t really needed when you’re already dealing with other riders, cars and trucks, or trees, rocks and roots. The Fear of crashing can be your worst enemy, and possibly the catalyst for the result you’re desperate to avoid.
As soon as Keepers Tour 15 was confirmed, two things were apparent: I needed to get into shape for the long days on the cobbles, and I needed to stay uninjured so I’d be able to ride the cobbles and possibly have a chance of injuring myself on them in April. The Fear started eating away at me. Not the fear of getting hit by one of the thousands of angry motorists with a hatred of cyclists that are encountered every week, but a fear of myself and my ability to ride a mountain bike fairly quickly; the fear of steep and technical terrain; the fear of limited traction; and the fear of a competitive nature, as I’d entered a couple of enduro races held on some of the nastiest (but insanely fun) trails in the country. Already I was mentally defeated. I had to confront The Fear head on.
Instead, what I did was give away my entry to the nastier of the races to one of my mates and Spoke mag colleagues… he was gutted at missing out, I had nothing to prove by racing it, and it seemed the noble thing to do. At least that’s how I justified the fear I was experiencing. The other race is on trails I’ve never ridden, and my plan to ‘ride/not race’ it lessens the chances of crashing. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. Being only two weeks before KT15 is a bit of a worry, but there’s still time to pull out!
So for the last four weeks my mountain bike has gone untouched. Not entirely due to The Fear, a little bit of circumstance with weather, work, festivities and building up some endurance on the road bike. Today I hit the dirt. Literally. There wasn’t much Fear involved, the ride was nearing the end and all the sensations were good. Maybe too good. I was riding well, in control and fairly pacy. On a trail I’d ridden hundreds of times before, on an innocuous corner, a small rabbit darted across the track in front of me and instinct dictated that I try and miss it. My front wheel caught the soft edge and before I knew it my KT was flashing before my eyes as I hit the rocky ground with a thud. A fair bit of skin donated to the earth and a decent whack of the head, but nothing to put me out of action for the rest of the ride or the coming weeks. Certainly nothing compared the trauma @ChrisO is going through right now. And then I remember @itburns and perspective really hits home.
As I sit here with blood congealing on my arm and a dull headache and hazy recollections of the moments after the impact, I feel that conceding to The Fear will never be wise. If we let it win, then we’d never step foot out of the house and sling a leg over any top tube, whether it be sloped and fat or svelte and flat. Risk is always there when we ride our bikes, but it’s there in everything we do every minute of every day. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop riding for three months so I can ride in three months.
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@il muro di manayunk
Nice one, there's no better feeling of accomplishment than riding some techy trail and cleaning it.
I ride more tech stuff with more success now than ever, I think due in no small part to the modern bikes... more suspension, better geometry, and dropper posts. They make the best upgrade to any bike, and make riding safer/more fun, because you can actually have your body in the correct position to distribute weight where it needs to be.
And your road bike handling definitely benefits from riding the dirt, no doubt.
A little fear is a good thing. It keeps us from apex-ing inside lanes on fast descents or blasting through red lights during rush hour. I try not to over think these things and enjoy the ride but I have noticed that my downhill speeds have lessened with age and numerous broken bones. :)
When I went down in April, at a time of form and oneness with my steed that I had never reached previously, I was stoked not to break anything or hit my head. A month of bandage changes and I was back on the bike. But fuck me if I can't descend like I used to, can only explain it as feeling on top of rather than inside the bike, and no amount of positional changes make me feel better about it. The fear has taken hold, and it causes too much over thinking. When I stop thinking on a descent, back in flow again, I know the recovery will be complete. But the snatching brakes and wobbly descending is doing my head in meantime!
The fear is essential, although my Fear is based on my imagination of what could happen rather than any actual knowledge, because as yet (touch wood) I've not suffered any injuries from crashing my mountain bike, and have yet to come off my road bike at all (and in the latter cast, I'm much more concerned about damage to the bike!).
I must admit, I've been fortunate when mountain biking. My wife says I ride off road like I'm about to fall off at any second, but somehow don't. And on those occasions when I've been forced into a rapid disembarkation, I've usually managed to hit something soft.
The crashes that stick in my mind (and scar my body), and continue to make me wince have all been commuting. I've mentioned the spill on wet leaves which caused a significant shoulder injury here before, but I've also come off my bike at approximately 0.5kph, rolling off my drive when my chain snapped. This catapulted me elbow-first onto the tarmac and gouged a hole in my skin so big I had to be stitched with fishing line and have the arm set in plaster so I couldn't bend it.
Hilariously, I also once managed to catch one end of my handlebars in the lifting loop of a 1 tonne gravel bag, causing an unexpected and sudden meeting with the tarmac, although on that occasion I wasn't injured.
Nicely written, and a good read for sure.
The Fear was made real for our little cycling community when news of a crash took the life one of its members this month. Riding trails he knew as well as anyone, solo, hikers found him hours later. Very sad to hear, and somehow made me a bit nervous the next time I tossed a leg over my top bar.....
Odd timing. Two weeks ago today I crashed on the road bike and broke my right pelvis! I can't say I have fear about getting back on the bike but I haven't lifted the leg over the top tube yet. I do wonder though what my thought will be as I round that sharp little corner down the street on that first ride back. I guess we'll find out on about another for or give weeks.
fasthair
* 4 or 5 weeks* grrr...
@Beers
Took me nearly 18 months to get back to that sort of feeling after coming off & at Easter 2012, only started setting descending PB's again late last year.
@Mikael Liddy
I know exactly what you mean - I've been descending like my tires are made of glass or something. I'll know I'm back in black when I'm KOM on the local hairpin descents again. Meh.
@antihero
So the feeling does goes away? Good to hear!
I almost got myself killed last May and while still bound to home, I was very though ("if this is the worst that can happen, then from now on I'm going to fly!"). But the first time on the bike again I was already talking very differently and the first time doing serious mtb was with shaking knees. It's very strange, all seems to be fine, and then suddenly it hits me again and I immediately reach for the brakes.
My friends and family constantly reminding me of the accident aren't really of any help either...