This is why we can't have nice things, part II
Night ride last night in the Fells. One last shakedown before Great Glen. I'm riding down this rock face, with a turn in it, not really paying too much attention since it's pretty rideable during the day.
But, I kind of get stuck, so I decide I need to dismount. Unfortunately I'm running handlebar lights so I can't see anything to the right side of my bike. Ordinarily I would jump the bar, but I can't see the landing, so I kind of just lay down.
On the way down I bash my knee on a rock. It hurts. A lot. I start swearing, loudly. Alex asks me if I'm ok. I say I'm ok, I'm ok, I've definitely felt pain like this before. I think it's subsiding.
Then I look at my knee.
Did you know that your kneecap is white, far whiter than your skin? Yep. Kind of remarkable, although I wish I could get that image out of my head.
I would have been in much bigger trouble if Alex wasn't there. I call Justin, mainly because involving other people seems like the right thing to do. He's going to meet me at South Border Rd, a little over a mile away. Alex walks with me, taking one bike -- it's not like she can really help since I am hobbling, bend over with both hands holding my knee together.
After the least fun 25 minutes of my life, I make it to the road and into Justin's car. And off to the ER I go.
I won't get into the details of what happened at the ER, but I almost bit through my finger trying to distract myself from the pain when they actually started fixing me.
Anyway, I'm not dying of blood loss in the woods, so I'm trying to be happy, but all I can think about is how I'm not going to get to race Great Glen after getting pumped about this race for 2 months!!
The doctor said that if I could deal with the pain the 3 days I could ride. As I sit here, I have trouble believing that will actually happen, but you never know. If Vino can do it, so can I, right?
Pass the extra blood cells, please.
But, I kind of get stuck, so I decide I need to dismount. Unfortunately I'm running handlebar lights so I can't see anything to the right side of my bike. Ordinarily I would jump the bar, but I can't see the landing, so I kind of just lay down.
On the way down I bash my knee on a rock. It hurts. A lot. I start swearing, loudly. Alex asks me if I'm ok. I say I'm ok, I'm ok, I've definitely felt pain like this before. I think it's subsiding.
Then I look at my knee.
Did you know that your kneecap is white, far whiter than your skin? Yep. Kind of remarkable, although I wish I could get that image out of my head.
I would have been in much bigger trouble if Alex wasn't there. I call Justin, mainly because involving other people seems like the right thing to do. He's going to meet me at South Border Rd, a little over a mile away. Alex walks with me, taking one bike -- it's not like she can really help since I am hobbling, bend over with both hands holding my knee together.
After the least fun 25 minutes of my life, I make it to the road and into Justin's car. And off to the ER I go.
I won't get into the details of what happened at the ER, but I almost bit through my finger trying to distract myself from the pain when they actually started fixing me.
Anyway, I'm not dying of blood loss in the woods, so I'm trying to be happy, but all I can think about is how I'm not going to get to race Great Glen after getting pumped about this race for 2 months!!
The doctor said that if I could deal with the pain the 3 days I could ride. As I sit here, I have trouble believing that will actually happen, but you never know. If Vino can do it, so can I, right?
Pass the extra blood cells, please.
Comments
I know firsthand that your knuckles are also white, since I saw the bone in mine about 4 weeks ago.....that pain is quite awesome
Feel better, get some new blood, and get ready for 'cross.
*sound of a bike falling down a rock*
Colin: FUCK!!!
Me: Everything ok?
Colin: I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok!
Me: ...uh oh...
Colin: Uh, I can see my knee cap.
Your face was pretty white too. What amused me was that once you'd sort of gotten the blood to stop, the first thing out of your mouth was how Linnea was going to kill you if you couldn't ride this weekend. And the next ten minutes were spent saying "I'm better than that! How could that happen? I'm better than that!"
Glad you're ok.
NO NO NO NO!!
Well...
I came here to tell you that I've picked up some beer and am determined to do at least one more lap than you (ha ha.. that really is funny I think like that).
But now I guess we shall wat for another day when we each have two perfectly functioning kneecaps.
Therefore - which do you prefer:
Le Fin du Monde (which I was planning to share with you after the race)
OR
Chimay Rouge
and yeah - those Novocaine shots? They hurt yeah? Just think how much they hurt when you gotta get em in your SACK!
and if nothing else, this experience should re-affirm that handlebar mounted head lights are only SUPPLEMENTAL lighting for mt biking.
ya really do need a helmet mounted lamp.
loads of extra steri-strips to keep the sutures together tons of bandages...
you could ride at least one lap, or two... or more... ya never know...
oh and what's the deal with replying to comments in YOUR blog in OTHER people's blog ;)
ya think we won't come back here and check?
sheesh