I had just crashed on my mountain bike and my wife was driving me to get x-rays, which meant the car ride was terribly uncomfortable. While riding downhill on a mountain road at the end of a chilly morning ride, two deer suddenly sprinted out of nowhere. With no time to react, I braced myself and crashed directly into the side of the second deer at 30mph. It’s easy for me to clearly recall the shock of enjoying the peace and serenity of a solo bike ride in the predawn darkness one second, and the next second being ejected from my bike and over the bars, knowing I was about to slam into unforgiving asphalt at a speed that I only then realized was way too fast.
When I hit the ground, there was no shock or adrenaline that protected me from the pain. I was extremely aware of hitting the pavement on my right side and then bouncing and grinding and tumbling until I finally stopped some distance from my bike. Somehow, my legs had escaped any major trauma except for road rash, and I was able to stand up and start walking back toward my bike. Much like the deer, which had disappeared, my instinct was to just get the hell out of there. As I walked, I was experiencing what I call panic pain: doing the pain dance and swearing like a sailor as I tried to determine what was working and what wasn’t. When I reached my bike, I was relieved to find it intact and my instinct to get home helped me get back on and ride three very uncomfortable miles back to my house using one hand. I wasn’t sure which I was dreading worse, finding out what was broken or having to wake my sleeping wife and say, “Hey, don’t worry, I’m fine but not really… I finally had that bad bike crash you’ve always worried about, and I think I need to start crying now.”
And so, the car ride was also very uncomfortable because my wife hates that I mountain bike, and here I was, sitting helpless in the passenger seat, perfectly defining the reason why. Don’t get me wrong, she is an amazing and supportive outdoorswoman to have as a spouse, but to her credit, a lot of people we know have gotten hurt on bikes and not quite one year ago, we had a good friend die after a crash on her mountain bike. The conversation in the car progressed to a tear-filled exclamation of the worry that something like this, only worse, will happen again. I sat next to her, defenseless and writhing in pain, attempting to downplay the accident but fooling no one.
I ended up having a broken wrist and—much worse—broken ribs, which delivered the most painful two weeks I have ever endured in my life. Not to mention the accident happened one week before the Grindstone 100 which I was signed up and well-trained for. That, of course, was a big DNS. Also, I still had to work, which was like surviving an ultra every day, having to constantly ask for help and not being able to fully perform my job due to my “hobby sports injury.” Throw in the difficulty getting in and out of bed, opening doors and putting on my socks and I don’t need anyone to tell me that the whole thing sucked.
I’ve given risk-taking in our amateur athletic pursuits a lot of thought, and where the line is between reasonable and unreasonable risks. Base jumping? Unreasonable! Walking in the mall? Reasonable! Morning trail run? Reasonable! Morning bike ride? Reasonable to me, unreasonable to my wife! Road biking? Definitely unreasonable – l mean, those people crash and get injured!
How about sitting on the couch all day? Definitely unreasonable!
There are no easy answers here for such a subjectively defined topic. Support and understanding of outdoor pursuits come from a place of shared experience or true empathy with how important or vivid the experience is. Criticism and judgement often come from a place of concern, but also come from a lack of familiarity or understanding. How can my boss possibly know the draw of racing 100 miles when he doesn’t run? How can my father-in-law understand my love of mountain biking when he doesn’t bike?
Those of us who are getting outside to run, bike and ski do so because it is rewarding. When we wake up early, put on a headlamp, brave the bad weather and sweat/pant/endure, we are rewarded with a sense of fulfillment and purpose. With routine, this becomes more and more necessary in our pursuit of managing each day. We can’t explain all of the benefits, because there are so many and they likely differ from day-to-day. Some days it’s just that we got out of bed and did the thing, while others it’s the stars or the sunrise or the sharing with a friend that make it all worthwhile. And still, on other days, it’s the peace of the deer grazing on grass near the side of the road.
Like everyone, I have to go to work and manage the laws and customs of our culture to get through each day. I have a family that I care deeply about, a past that I must reconcile and a future that I have to consider. To do all these things well, I need a few things of my own. And right now, that’s running, biking and racing.
And so, I will get back on the bike, but I will definitely be going slower on descents and investing in some better lighting. I feel fortunate to have made it to that uncomfortable passenger seat where I was told that I was loved. It has given me more appreciation for the outdoor pursuits we follow, while also giving me awareness that I never want anyone to have to put on my socks for me again.