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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Nice reality check for me! There are many times when i let confidence breed carelessness.You just never know when Ma- Nature is going to come a knocking and reasure you that gravity still exists and she is in charge. I hate those test but if i had to choose i prefer the inanimate over the animate. Over the years i've been able to walk / ride away a stronger person. What is more humbling is the walk / call of shame home or back to camp because my steed is broken . There is something about being able to ride immediately after crashing that is very gratifying for me. I call it a badge of honor because i was aloud to get up and ride another day.
@Ron
Last summer whilst laying down some serious V, my wheel-sucking mate yelled, "He's turning!" As the road ahead in both directions was clear I was puzzled...until an overtaking van appeared and proceeded to cut into a parking lot in front of me! In the "safety" of the bike lane I applied front and rear brakes to only to discover that at high speed, stopping is not happening soon enough. Fortunately I struck the van's side at an oblique angle and proceeded to tear a gouge (or is it a scrape or a scrap?) the length of the vehicle with my bars. I would have been completely unscathed had I not picked off the van's mirror with my shoulder. After a very shaky ride home and a trip to the LBS, my bike was unharmed save for shredded bar tape and two broken seat rails (must have clamped down before impact!)
The moral: Don't be where the van is...and you aren't safe in the bike lane!
And apologies for Rule 81 liberties...but since the van lost, Rule 5 was applied!
@The Pressure
A-Merckx. I am still puzzled when cycling advocacy groups talk about all the new 'infrastructure'' they have created. In reality all they did was paint a few yellow lines, and now it's considered infrastructure? There's a GREAT youtube video of a guy who obnoxiously films himself and the bike lane encounters. Sometimes you really can feel like the whole world is against you...sad but true. Regardless, I wouldnt trade my 2 wheels for antyhing
I recently met a guy on Facebook whose 14-year-old son was hit and killed while he was out training with his team a year or so ago. The guy who hit him didn't even go to jail!
No serious crashes yet, at least none involving motorised transport. But have experienced sheer terror. Saturday morning on Beach Rd in Melbourne - (http://www.cyclingtips.com.au/2011/09/beach-road-bedlam/) - in a big group, taking themselves very seriously, I really dont belong - my No.1 did not cost over $10k and I wont hold on for much longer. Red light ahead. The call from the front. STOPPING. Distracted for some reason - just plain forget to unclip. Slowing. Stopping. Off camber!! . Ah shit, overbalancing. How can this be happening, everything goes into slow motion. Topple into the gutter. Divot in knee. Silence, rolling eyes. Then a snort - "Dont worry mate - we've all done it. Well, not really."
@Marcus
Yup ditto here, still not 100% confident in my cornering on descents that I don't ride consistently after my spill at Easter last year. Fault purely my own for going too quick for the damp & messy road conditions, which is the worst part because you're constantly questioning whether you've judged the corner/conditions correctly once you're back up riding...
Oh boy, lots of reading to catch up. On my way out the door but wanted to point out that the bike was fine mechanically but the carbon ergo levers took a beating. [Insert photo of Sonny Corleone biting knuckle when he hears his sister say her husband beat her again, a fantastic scene which eludes me on the interwebs.]
Regarding the Bonts - these shoes are completely bombproof. This accident happened back in mid-December, and I've since ridden Haleakala etc on them. A little sandpaper to the rough carbon and some glue to the bit of upper that had peeled away from the carbon - and a new cleat - and I was off to the races.
It will take more than this to sort those shoes. I am reasonably confident that I could get shot in my foot and the shoe would be fine.
@roger
Roger this is why you should join us out in the burbs
@Marcus
Dude! I feel guilty cos I rode my 404's on the rollers (2.5km further over 1 hour), but ya TT rig? Seriously?