On Rule #64: The Sudden Drop

Scraped carbon and a torn cleat serve as reminders of a sudden crash.

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.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

View Comments

  • It's going to happen... I remember seeing Stuart O'Grady interviewed after a spectacular track crash (not involving him, though lord knows he's had more than his share) and he said words to the effect of "If you ride a bike it's a matter of when, not if you're going to crash."

    In some ways I find that comforting. If you ride with the possibility in mind then a) You don't take unnecessary risks and b) You aren't surprised when it happens, so it doesn't affect you too much.

    Not that I've had a bad crash, touch wood.

  • I've been hit by 3 cars. Once ended up on a back board with my achilles cut and tibia showing. Lost teeth and skin to the pave, racing. I'm absolutely positive that it's all about getting it immediately out of your head, and remembering that your connection to the bike is perfect. We just can't always control the environment around us.

  • Frank-

    Thank you. You've put into words what I have yet to.

    On January 8th of this year I crashed while on one of my favorite rides on the planet. A classic Northern California loop out of Woodside, I wound up to and over Skyline through redwoods to the PCH and then back again. All told it would have been a 140 kilometer day. I kept a pace that was hard tempo going up and deliberately casual on the descents due to the often slick and sometimes frosty patches. I was on the final descent when I entered a sweeping left hand corner and the front wheel went out from under me. I had no time to respond. None. I went down as hard as an east coaster slipping on an iced over sidewalk in the dead of February.

    My left femur took the entire load of the fall.

    It broke high and in a spiral manner and I am now the owner of an embedded 11mm x 300mm titanium rod and four screws. My request for strain gauges and Blue Tooth connectivity was only met with blank stares.

    It's been just over 3 weeks since the wreck and it's as vivid in my memory as the day it happened. Laying on the wet road, the 911 call, the packaging performed by Fire Department and EMS personnel, the ER staff and then the surgeons. All their faces are embedded. The pain is subsiding and I am regaining mobility. I am fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends and am able to use sick leave for work.

    The team's new kit arrived just last week and I've just now opened the box...

    Is my season over before it's begun? Three fresh kits and all the warm weather gear a guy needs for Nor*Cal is sitting in cardboard in the corner of my room. Will it ever be worn?

    The crash rattled me. I couldn't think about, talk about or even look at a bike for a week without getting nauseated. Slowly, the nausea is fading and I have been able to look a my sled. There is hardly a scratch on her. A touch on the left side of the saddle and a whisk on the left shift/brake lever. No real sign of anything other than what might happen if she had gotten bumped to the ground outside a coffee shop. It's almost unfair. She survived and I remain seriously scarred. The feeling and sound of bone snapping is haunting.

    I suppose the days will turn to weeks (as they already have) and the weeks into months. I only hope that the desire to ride will come back and along with it the confidence to ride has hard as I have in the past.

    For now, I am left in a place where I'm not so sure anymore...

    Except maybe... when I re-read Rule #5 and the pilot light deep down low flickers just a bit.

    Again, thanks for the post. It was one I needed.

  • @frank

    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.

    The only thing left after the apocalypse to remind future species of our existence will be randomly scattered pairs of slightly charred Bonts

  • @wrench

    Stay strong man.

    I have thought about this topic often since my near fatal motorcycle accident 5 years ago (see above comments regarding russian roulette and the law of averages riding 60k miles a year on two wheels).  28 days in the hurt locker, 7 surgeries, and the worst of the injuries being a compound spiral fractured femur and the resulting missing vastus medialis.

    My half ironman training and great physical shape was what saved me, but at 128 lbs from 165, and on the 7th surgery I gave up and just made it through from the grace of the man above.

    Since then life has been a struggle between motivations.  On the one hand my burning desire to regain that life that I had, including the athletic abilities that I've now lost.  On the other hand the desire to never enter that hurt locker again.  Sometimes the two motivations allow me to work in unison, other times, they seem completely contradictory and I can not claim to have the answers.

    I do know the following:

    Rule #5 ....... so true on so many levels

    Try never to find the point where Rule #5 is no longer applicable as it is an ugly ugly place

    I don't think I'll ever be seperated from some of the things I'm truly passionate about. Many of them already mentioned here on the site: motorcycles, rock climbing, athletism.  But life ain't just one lap around the velodrome trying to go out in a  blast of glory.  It's Liege-Bastogne-Liege and there ain't any point in burning all your matches on the first climb, nor running off the road on the first decent.  Keep your passions, but also keep the long view.

    Finally as much as I'd prefer not to have learned my lessons in such a painful and graphic way, I can't regret having learned them.  Just hope that my future kids can benefit from my experience.

    VLVV

  • @wrench

    Frank-

    Thank you. You've put into words what I have yet to.

    On January 8th of this year I crashed while on one of my favorite rides on the planet. A classic Northern California loop out of Woodside, I wound up to and over Skyline through redwoods to the PCH and then back again. All told it would have been a 140 kilometer day. I kept a pace that was hard tempo going up and deliberately casual on the descents due to the often slick and sometimes frosty patches. I was on the final descent when I entered a sweeping left hand corner and the front wheel went out from under me. I had no time to respond. None. I went down as hard as an east coaster slipping on an iced over sidewalk in the dead of February.

    My left femur took the entire load of the fall.

    It broke high and in a spiral manner and I am now the owner of an embedded 11mm x 300mm titanium rod and four screws. My request for strain gauges and Blue Tooth connectivity was only met with blank stares.

    It's been just over 3 weeks since the wreck and it's as vivid in my memory as the day it happened. Laying on the wet road, the 911 call, the packaging performed by Fire Department and EMS personnel, the ER staff and then the surgeons. All their faces are embedded. The pain is subsiding and I am regaining mobility. I am fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends and am able to use sick leave for work.

    The team's new kit arrived just last week and I've just now opened the box...

    Is my season over before it's begun? Three fresh kits and all the warm weather gear a guy needs for Nor*Cal is sitting in cardboard in the corner of my room. Will it ever be worn?

    The crash rattled me. I couldn't think about, talk about or even look at a bike for a week without getting nauseated. Slowly, the nausea is fading and I have been able to look a my sled. There is hardly a scratch on her. A touch on the left side of the saddle and a whisk on the left shift/brake lever. No real sign of anything other than what might happen if she had gotten bumped to the ground outside a coffee shop. It's almost unfair. She survived and I remain seriously scarred. The feeling and sound of bone snapping is haunting.

    I suppose the days will turn to weeks (as they already have) and the weeks into months. I only hope that the desire to ride will come back and along with it the confidence to ride has hard as I have in the past.

    For now, I am left in a place where I'm not so sure anymore...

    Except maybe... when I re-read Rule #5 and the pilot light deep down low flickers just a bit.

    Again, thanks for the post. It was one I needed.

    Moving stuff and reminds us all that we are really just puny ants on a pin prick in the Galaxy.....however.....Rule #5 is there for a reason.  It is not some macho bullshit mantra to be twatwaffled and quoted in the locker room.  It is a reminder that no matter how dark it gets, not matter how low, cold, tired, painful, mentally scarred we are.....that pilot light is always there.

    That light cannot be exstinguished, it can flicker and reduce but it is always there.  Whatever the situation, to ride less, or be more carefully, to only ride in summer, or only with a group, it really does not matter because the love of the bike and the ride cannot be defeated by pain, misery, accident or calamity.  As they say true love conquers all!

    I am glad you have great support around you, take your time, but keep a little momentum....just one day at a time is all it takes...observe the antics on here and slowly the flame will grow!

    Chapeau.....and.....in the true sense of the word....Rule #5!

  • I recently had my CC "reset" by ice and reckon I'm now at least 6+ months to peak :(
    In my case it all boils down to faith - that and ignoring the fact it may happen again as ultimately it wasn't my fault (beyond riding in insane conditions) - it was the bounce down the flight of steps and the final braking assistance provided by a garden bench which did the real damage.

    On the bright side I never knew my vmh was such a comedienne, the way she casually rested her elbows on the bars of her bike and noted (utterly deadpan) "that bench is a goner" had me laughing until I cried

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