cycling

I’ve never had a crash like the one I had yesterday. Usually my crashes are at slower speeds and I have time to bail out on my own terms. This one surprised me.

I took a fast turn and an icy bridge took my wheels out. I felt my body go sideways and then slam into the hard ground. My sunglasses, cell phone, and a decal from my helmet flew off. I could feel the chunky dirt tear into my forearm, hip, and calf as I slid sideways like warm parmesan across a cold cheese grater. I came to a stop dripping with a sticky slurry of sweat and goo from an energy gel that popped.

I stood up and immediately felt it. That feeling I’ve had before. Like when I caught an elbow during a basketball game in highschool. Breathe through it. You got this. Drink something. Eat a gel. Walk it off.

Eventually, I felt right again. I was 8 miles from home, but I wanted to ride the rest of the 23 miles I had planned for that day. Could I keep riding? I better not. I called a friend to pick me up.

It might not make sense, but at that moment I felt like a failure. I know it was only one training ride and it really didn’t matter in the long run. But I hate not finishing what I set out to do. Maybe that’s what makes me good at ultras.

I’m doing better today. My head seems fine. But my road rash still stings. Showers now resemble that waxing scene from The 40-Year-Old Virgin and I’m at peace with it…the showers, but also the crash and my decision to call it a day.