Broken Wings

Yup, life can change in a heart beat.

I was super excited Sunday morning getting ready for my long roady. Mindy and I were going to do a 90km loop.

Even soaked the steel cut oats in water overnight.

It had rained in the night. I set the odometer to 0 and clipped in with a smile on my face.

Was pretty stoked to be heading out with my new back wheel. I’d broken a few spokes and had a loaner on for a while. Yesterday I managed the newbie. Wow I had so much more power.

I took to the streets with some speed. But when I went to cross the train tracks somehow, my back end fishtailed out and I went down hard. Very hard. Hip, shoulder, then head.

I knew it was bad. I had to gasp for air.

Seconds passed and I was able to move my weight to my right side off my hip. I could see cars driving by.

Then I heard someone come up behind me.

“Are you OK? Can you get up.”

“No, I replied. I can’t move.”

In fits of calmness I asked for help. My phone. Somewhere behind me. He called 911. I called my son.

“Kyle, I went down really hard off my bike. I need you to come and get my bike for me – NOW.”

I was a block away from meeting Mindy. So I asked a fellow cyclists to hook up for me.

At this point many people were stopping to put blankets on me and ask if they could help.

That dang pavement is hard!

At one point while waiting for the ambulance I had my son sit behind me to prop me up.

I’d known child birth. Non-medicated. The pain was right up there. I knew I’d done something bad to my pelvis.

The nurse who took to my care remained positive.

“Probably a bad tear.”

I imagined it. My cleat. The release.

But as I rolled over to x-ray my body went into shock. I’d known the feeling from a previous bike accident. Same hip. Same side. But in the past case – a lot more road rash.

She convinced me when I got out of x-ray to take the shot of morphine.

Then she told me it looked like I had a couple fractures.

We talked a lot about cycling. Riding in a pack. She’s signed up to do the 140km Ryder Hesjedal’s Tour de Victoria. Nervous about riding in the packs.

I gave her my insights. “You’re gonna love it!”

The day wore on and the pain subsided. I was later told I fractured my left superior and inferior pubic ramus (pelvis) and the distal end of my clavicle in my left shoulder.

Awakening to the realization I’m going to need a lot of healing, one by one I alerted family, friends and co-workers.

I’m receiving amazing care.

Yesterday I was able to stand and take a few baby steps. I’m now able to pivot myself to the port-pottie even!

But when I woke up yesterday morning in a hospital bed, not even 24 hours later I thought it was all a bad dream.

Truth be known I shed a few.

The day drew on and I sat back to do my work as best I could.

Gotta keep the sanity.

Friends and even my boss came in for hugs.
The day’s recital went like this:

“I’m so grateful I didn’t break my head. I don’t need surgery and yes – I will heal!”

It’s temporary.

The broken wings.

Riding in a Pack

Highway driving will never be the same for me. Had a big chuckle out loud when I hit the Pat Bay Highway this morning on my way to Sidney (yyj). Actually covered my mouth to stifle my laughter. I was trying to follow the car in front me's tire - like in a straight line.
I had had my first experience riding in a pack this morning with the TripleShot Pre Dawn Cafe Destination Cycling Club. Since I’m officially a roady now that I have a road bike, I gave the speed work with the pack a shot.
Insider tippers told me to stay six inches (no less) off the tire in front of me. Stay in line. If you do butt, you’ll stop. No doubt.
It’s a 6 a.m. start and I had a 15 minute ride to the meet-up. So I’m warmed up and off we go. I pulled to the back, introducing myself here and there. We get to the loop and the leader dictates the shuffle speed formation. I go for it. Appreciative of the guy who zooms ahead of me with a “Good work” under his arm. I realize he’s directing that to me and say thanks as I slinker to the very back. That’s ok I reckon to myself. At least I’m givin’ ‘er.
We spin off after four rounds to a waterfront vista and then I feel the real pull when my pair gets to the front. Exhilarating!
When I spill out it’s just in time as the big hill approaches. The infamous King George Terrace. I’ve been crawling up that hill during my own training on the old mountain bike when the pack has glided past me. This time I’m in it. Well, not for long. I’m left behind with three others. Great I think to myself. At least I’m not completely alone.
Then the fun begins. The six foot sixer passes me with a gal close behind and yells over his shoulder, “Get on, Jane.”
I do. I pull into that draft position and cruise the rest of the way to our final sprint around the Petting Zoo at Beacon Hill Park. I’m lagging but manage. Once back on the road our guy Jeremy says to me “Get on Dave’s tire for a final sprint.”
I bang up to him as best I can feeling like I need another high gear. He’s flying. I’m pumping. He gives to me a bit so I can stretch to him to Fisherman’s Wharf, something like a finish line. The heart is beating and I’m feeling like I just did an intense early morning aerobics class. I thank the guys and confirm tomorrow morning’s hills - I’ll be there.
More fun riding in the pack!