The severity of a crash exists on two planes, the physical and psychological. The physical is the most obvious and one we busy ourselves with in the immediate vicinity of coming down. Our bodies need time to heal, our kits may need replacing or mending, and our bicycles may need repair work. For weeks and sometimes months, we may carry with us the scars that result when our bodies, bicycles, and tarmac momentarily occupy the same space.
We endeavor to reach a point where the mechanics of bike handling has moved into the subconscious. An experienced Cyclist no longer thinks in terms of steering or pedaling; instead, we exist in a stream of subconscious consciousness where our senses are heightened, yet none of our actions exist on a plane of explicit thought as we make subtle adjustments to our stroke, steering, and balance. As our experience grows, the bicycle becomes an extension of our physical selves; it is through finding this harmony that we are able to live on the razor’s edge between grace and disaster.
When disaster does strike, we are faced with scars beyond the physical that take much longer to recover than do our equipment and flesh. In the space of a single moment, the trust we felt in our machine and our ability to control it evaporates, leaving a hollow sense of betrayal that burrows away deeply into our minds. It stays there, far from view, only to surface during moments when we most rely on our confidence to avoid crashes; the sliding of a tire in a corner or the sudden interference of an object with our path – these situations require complete confidence in our machine and skills, yet during the time that our confidence is being rebuilt we doubt our instincts.
This is particularly true of cornering, where we are most prominently faced with the realities of our confidence, trust, and skills. Normally, we sense a crash approaching some time before it arrives. A problem with our trajectory or a slipping tire will give our minds a moment to react, even if our bodies are unable to. As we reflect on the crash afterwards, we’ll understand what happened, and what might have been done to avoid it; we use this knowledge to tell ourselves it was avoidable and tuck that nagging sense of doubt a bit farther out of reach. But a crash with no warning and no remedy sits naked in our minds and permeates every action and sensation as we struggle to regain our confidence.
This past December, I slipped on some black ice on a cold morning commute to the office. There were no signs of anything going amiss; there was only the crash. In the blink of an eye, I went from happily entering a corner to laying on the tarmac. The impact was so sudden, in fact, that the force of the fall was taken up by my hip and elbow – my hands never left the bars – and the impact so swift that my cleat tore apart as the impossibility of my occupying the same space as my bicycle and the road was resolved by my being separated abruptly from both.
My rides since then have suffered from nagging questions that flood my mind as I enter a corner, particularly in the wet; I no longer trust that I can judge the corner adequately or that my equipment will loyally carry me through. Logically, I know that while statistics suggest that one’s chances of crashing remain constant so long as environmental conditions don’t significantly change, I know shaken confidence ensures that crashes come in clusters as self-doubt overrides intuition cultivated over years of experience.
I must force myself to regain my confidence; the only path to doing so lies through ignoring my doubt and wrapping myself in the craft. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@Buck Rogers
So really its just been trucks - that's extra rough!
Great article. Build confidence over the summer, the nagging doubts will pass...
@PeakInTwoYears
Exactly! I was roped up to my partner when he was crossing a snow gully one time and the entire gully broke loose and avalanched. Fortunately the slide stopped before I was sucked into it and I traced the rope to him and dug him out. He survived unhurt but that was the last time that we climbed for close to a year. Scared the shitte out of both of us and gave me nightmares for weeks. Still get scared in big, deep snow conditions.
@VeloVita
Ha! Yeah, I'm a truck/bus/SUV magnet!
"Assume that everyone else is out to kill you" - with respect to drivers, this is my on road mantra and was passed on by a motorcycling friend. Having met a truck driver a year or so ago who regaled us with the wonderful story of how he liked to drift the trailer out towards cyclists to "scare the shit out of them", I'm convinced that some drivers really are out there to get me.
Fortunately my falls have all been self inflicted and mostly related to white stripes and water/grease - I CAN rationalise them, but they do really shake my confidence. And skin regrows (mostly) but good kit and clearcoat - that's damn hard to fix.....that really hurts
Great article.
@Buck Rogers
I used to love climbing. First accident occurred when i let go of a mate's girlfriend whilst we were crossing a ravine. Then then this arsehole comes and crashes a fucking plane on my mountain. I go to rescue him and it turns out he is a fucking robber. After that i went back to boxing.
Timely. LeMan is reported in the hospital for 3 days and a brace for 3 weeks. A car crash on black ice (he apparently was in a car) resulted in a compression fracture.
My Rule (that I have been ridiculed by the common sojery here) is that I don't ride in the rain, and I don't ride in the dark. It's. Too. Fucking. Dangerous.
Although this is at least part of the reason my ass is as big as it is right now.
For the record: servers suck.
in October after a good hard ride, on a beautiful early fall day, I crashed after hitting a water bottle some %^&*! left on a crowded bike path. After a long sweeping spin through the air, I landed on my right side on the edge of a concrete enclosed raised planter. A broken clavicle, many ribs and a pelvis later, I was off the bike for 8 weeks.
Sunday, after 4 weeks back in the saddle, I was riding in a group. Everyone was a guy I know, all experienced riders. So when someone next to me half wheeled the guy in front of him, i just pulled off to the right and let the group go by. It will take a while until I have enough trust to ride in a fast group again and i am not happy about it. It takes time I guess...
@Sly
Nice!
For a few years I was into riding a sport bike. (Divorce will motivate you to ride a motorcycle rather too fast.) I studied the techniques and rode and dreamed of track days and went looking for a sensei and discovered that those people take risks that will make the average rock climber (me) shake his head in disbelief. Russian roulette on wheels.
I've left my bike inoperative for a while now, but I took the VMH's adorable little Baby Ninja (custom suspension, good rubber) for a spin late last summer, just to have some fun running an errand through the woods and into town... It confirmed my feeling that I should not allow myself on a motorcycle, ever. Twisty roads = throttle turns itself and I just lean the bike a bit more and enjoy the ride. Stoopid fun and of course potentially quite lethal. I really should just sell my bike and make some more space for stuff that is practical and sane.