So this little crash . . . I'm no stranger to kissing the pavement in crits and meet the flora and fauna in cx races, but this one was a doozy. APD and I were out for a quick lunchtime spin. I had made a left into a bike lane and need to change lanes to make a left at the next intersection. I checked and waited for oncoming traffic before signalling and taking my lane. The first change was fine, the second was the problem. I saw the car when I before I moved over. It was about a block back. I moved into the lane and was looking ahead to get in the turn lane. THUD.
I'm off my bike.
Why isn't the pavement rough?
Crap I'm on the hood of a car.
I gotta get off of here.
I'm on the ground.
She's gonna run over me. Tuck. Be small.
Time stopped then. I heard Adam yelling. I realized the car was stopped. "Babe, I think my leg is broken. Call an ambulance." I heard people all around me saying they'd already called and just to lay down. The car (red mustang convertible) pulled into the right hand lane. The woman got out and walked over to me. There was another guy walking towards me. The women leaned down and said "I'm sorry. I hope you're okay." I was mad, scared and worried about my bike. I only had 60 minutes for a ride and now my workout was ruined. Deep breath and I said to her "Sweetheart you need to get away from me. I don't want to say something I'm going to regret." Well, I didn't think she'd take me so literally. The next thing I realized she was in her car and gone. WTF? Just breathe. Paramedics and police arrived and were amazing. I couldn't lay on my back on the stretcher because of the impact on my caboose. They were gentle and got me on a stretcher and to an ER. And by the grace of God I walked out of that ER on my own that afternoon.
I wish I could say I was back on a bike the next day, or by the weekend. As mean as I am, this one got the best of me. Soft tissue injuries suck. They just suck! I dealt with weeks of bruising, swelling and still have on going nerve pain. ART, Graston, PT, you name it. Healing takes time. Healing takes a lot of time. Finally, this past Thursday, my orthopedist asked "do you want to run?" I just looked at her wide eyed with that "cut the crap look" and she said "I don't see any reason you can't". Yippee ki yay!
So Sunday morning the alarm quacks me out of bed. It's early and I was up too late the night before playing Easter bunny, but I wasn't missing this. I slid into my clothes and laced up my Mizuno's. Garmin found satellites right away and I was off. I ran to the park and talked myself through it.
This isn't so bad.
I'm glad I have compression on my leg.
I wish I had compression on my butt.
Okay, this hurts.
Keep going, keep going.
It hasn't been a mile yet.
What was that pace?
Let me look again. Damnit!
Four minutes to turn around.
There's the path.
That second mile was even slower.
You've got this.
Why do I love this?
There's the park exit.
You can stop at 30 minutes and walk home.
Crest the hill, crest the hill.
You will not stop at 30 minutes. Suck it up.
Thank God I'm home!
A full minute per mile slower than the week before my accident, but a run nonetheless. It will be a long road back, but I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to make my way back.
|My poor broken LuLu! This was my first brand new bike.|