I thought I was the only one. It was a truth I admitted to myself only in the darkest hours of the night, when you lie awake and are faced by those haunting thoughts that are otherwise whisked away before they float to the surface.
But now, I can say it: I am afraid of crashing. Especially of equipment failure. I never climb aboard my bike without having made a cursory check of all important parts: inflate the tires, check the headset, check the brake pads, bolts and cables, check the quick-releases. (There is something in the name “Quick-Release” that unnerves me and forces me to harbor a doubt that they will release suddenly and unexpectedly.)
I’ve been particularly nervous about it the last week or so. This year, I’ve noted that I’m descending and cornering faster; my confidence in my bike handling skills having skyrocketed since picking up mountain biking again. In the last week, I switched to a new pair of shoe (the White Ladies, passed on to me by John), and since doing so I’ve occasionally been clipping out of my inside pedal when leaning into a turn. It turns out that having your foot attached to your pedal contributes considerably towards staying upright. (On a side note, I wonder what the connection is there?)
Crashing is part of cycling and, like most of us, I’ve spent my time on the tarmac. Sometimes bad, sometimes not so bad. Like the time when I borrowed an English friend’s bike and pulled on the front break instead of the rear. And the time I overshot a corner racing my sister down a mountain in New York. Sometimes you pick yourself up and ride home, other times you head to the hospital.
The risks increase when racing, of course, and the scariest of all my crashes was the first time I went down in a bunch during a race. (I’d like to take this moment to thank the guy who thought he’d win the race by going through a non-existent gap from the middle of the field in the middle of the race.) The first time you find yourself suddenly laying on the road being hit and fallen on by other cyclists is a moment that is occupied not by any realization of what is happening but instead by trying to assemble the fragments of information being sent to your brain. You first become aware of what happened after you stop moving and continue to hear the wheels whizzing by your head as the rest of the riders (hopefully) avoid the carnage. The feeling of helplessness is particularly acute as the desire to remove yourself from the road washes over you.
But watching the Pros, they seem to take it in stride. I long held the view that after crashing so often, they have grown accustomed to it and generally don’t mind hitting the deck. They are hardened by the reality of their occupation and get on with their job. But I was happy to read a piece in the New York Times that said otherwise. Jens Voigt, cycling legend, hardman extraordinaire, and Velominati hero, is also afraid of crashing, as it turns out. Not only that, but so are the other Pros.
No matter how long you’ve been in this sport, there’s always that fear of crashing in the back of your mind, especially in the rain.
Crashing, as we are all aware of, is not a very pleasant experience. Everybody is scared of it, no matter who they are.
Not a very pleasant experience? There’s an understatement. I would say that crashing ranges anywhere from “Sucking” to “Fucking Terrifying” on the “Bad Things That Happen” scale.
That that in mind, take this spectator video of Boonen’s crash in the Tour of California. The riders yelling just before the fall, and the distance they slide is rattling. The callousness of the fan who scampers over to pick up Boonen’s bike with no interest in the rider’s well being before yelling at his friend to photograph him “quick” like it’s some sort of trophy is staggering.
Obviously not a cyclist, that one, because cyclists cringe and relive their own crashes any time they see a fellow Velominatus go down.
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View Comments
@luke
look at it this way, has the bike been totally wrecked at any stage and your limbs are mostly intact? and is it not the most exquisite thing in to world to be on a bike? if you're feeling apprehensive about getting back on then that is totally normal and we've all been there at one stage or another. Look at it on the upside, in the second crash you ended up in the hedge rather than removing however much skin from whatever part you might have happed to land on. Apply Rule V and carry on
@luke
Oh dear. I have tears coming out of my eyes about your story.
That's the funniest fucking thing I've heard in ages. I'm imagining some serious karmic payback involving you molesting a packet of honey flavoured chips.
@luke
No, you should not give up - neither riding, nor sharing high-quality tales of your less successful outings. (You have, though, set the bar pretty high. A bee-stung potato-testicled tractor incident takes some beating.)
My worst spill involved some gravel and laying the bike down during my commute home last summer. To get to my building was a long, flat strip of one way street with a few lights. Caught greens the last few thanks to a a sprint or two. At the end of that is a left hand turn downhill and into the parking garage at the bottom of said hill. At about 45 kph I took that turn, hit some gravel or loose stuff of some sort, lost my wheel and laid the bike down. Mucho road rash on the ankle, hip/ass, wrist, and leg in general. Also very embarrassing with the cars waiting for the green light getting a great view of the incident. I walked the remaining 20 meters to parking garage...
@luke
Awesome! If you ever meet my partner, flatmate, parents and siblings and they start laughing their arses off you'll know why.
FWIW when I get a new bike I'm such a pansy about crashing it, I kind of reset the risk taking I do on the bike and that has some interesting consequences. One greasy descent, I kind of cooked a couple of successive corners and ended up needing to make an emergency stop before I go over an edge. Due to my absolute genius with brakes, wet roads and being a massive chicken, I managed to come to a complete stop on the grass strip, a steep cliff on one side and the road on the other. Of course I unclip the wrong foot and end up tumbling down the bank, bike left at the top laid carefully on the grass.
@luke
I think we should pass the hat around to invest in a helmet-cam for Luke.
We'll make a fortune just from selling the clips to comedy TV shows.
A1 Classic.
@luke
Dude, you're lucky to be alive after the drunk faceplant in the dark, but the flying potato-in-the-testicles incident is Pure Fried Gold.
*cleans coffee off keyboard*
@Minion
Rule 4 respected, nice work
@luke
Not belittling what happened to you, but just think what would have happened if that truck had been full of turnips, or worse still large carrots - that said pretty poor form by the bee, to take you out whilst you were on the ground, sort of shoddy behaviour you would only expect out of a wasp
Tears of respec', nay, pure convulsions of giggling for Luke !!
My favourite crash happened when I was quite young. We lived down a modest hill, which allowed a decent turn of speed on my first bike, a green Dragster with a rear coaster brake. You know, the kind where you have to do a quarter turn backwards before any braking happens. I was riding as fast as I could down the hill, turning into our drive, and hitting the brakes, progressively leaving it later and later each time before I applied the brakes.
On the last fateful pass, I determined that I would not brake until I was actually inside the shed.
Can you guess what happened ? Of yes, I came flying down the hill, counter-steered through a perfect turn into the drive and entered the shed at Warp V. As I applied the brake, I had the pedals at 3 and 9, so after the quarter turn, they were at exactly 6 and 12, a position characterised by a complete inability to apply any braking pressure at all.
I analysed the situation in a flash. Like the auto-pilot in the famous Bugs Bunny scene, I felt the situation was beyond redemption, and bailed off the bike. The bike proceeded to arrive, riderless, into a dining setting at the end of the shed, right next to the open kitchen door, where my poor mother was washing up. The noise was horrendous, and I have no idea why my mother did not die of fright.
As children do, I bounced. I can't even recall taking any skin off, though I probably did. My growing years were characterised by a permanent revolving skinned knee which migrated from side to side on a regular basis.
These days, I'm a bit wary of crashing on descents, as the hills I ride on have steep drop-offs and big trees, as well as rough pave, and the results would not be pretty. So, I descend like a pussy, mostly.
I have only ever had one high speed crash...and as per usual it was in the wet on a cycle path in Bristol...daily commute at the time. It was entirely my fault. I flew passed a jogger at about 35kph straight in to a chicaine, I tried to dink my way round it and suddenly had this very wierd sensation of the bike no longer being there and somehow being suspended in mid air...right up until my thigh hit the deck followed by the side of my tin lid!
Polished my left thigh perfectly...not road rash, I mean perfect skimming off of the top few layers of skin. Helmet saved my bonce and I got up and cycled on to work. All day my new thigh seeped clear liquid periodically velcroing my trousers to my leg. Bizarrely it was a particularly painful crash but it was my one and only (apart from the standard early mishaps with cleated shoes etc).
I have had a couple of near misses recently with traffic and thank my lucky starts I am still here, the only thing that has saved me is having modicum of caution and staying fully awake and alert at all times....daydream=donefor!