CRASH!!!

Well, now I know why I don't train the day before a race. Ok, ok, I know that a crash can happen any time, but this was probably my worst bike crash. And, yes, it happened exactly one day before my first tri of the season. The bottom line is, I am an idiot.

Here's the great (but long) story: After riding with Andy while she did her 7m run, I was going to do a quick, easy BLT loop on the bike, just to spin out the legs and get everything all warmed up. As I exited our neighborhood and approached the semi-sharp right hand turn to get up onto AL White Parkway, I checked to see if any traffic was coming up behind me. I do this at every corner, but especially this one, because it is a tricky, uphill corner that always is very full of gravel from the winter. I saw there was a big truck pulling a camper coming up behind me, so I kept my speed up a bit more than normal, trying to stay ahead of him. Mistake #1. Because I knew he was back there, I didn't want to go wide around the corner and cut him off, lest I contribute to any cyclist vs. auto anger. So, even though I was slowing down, I headed straight into the gravel. Mistake #2. Not really sure what happened next, but it doesn't really matter, because WHAM suddenly the right side of my body met the road in a very dramatic looking and sounding flurry of gravel, dust and bike. I didn't even have time to unclip, although I did have time to think "hey, it would be a good idea if I took my hands off the bike right now and give the road a high five".

As I lay there making sure that nothing was broken (bike first, then bones), friendly Mr. Guy-in-Truck pulls up to the stop sign. He sits there for awhile, staring at me, probably wishing I'd get up and get out of the road so he can get off to claim his awesome camping spot. Doesn't get out, doesn't roll down the window to ask if I'm ok. Nope. Just sits there. Could he maybe have not seen me go down, I wonder? Perhaps, but if that were the case, then that was the longest stop at a stop sign in history. Fortunately, a gentleman and his daughter who were out on their tandem bike came over to help me up and make sure I was going to be ok. Right about the time I start spraying massive amounts of water on my now bloody hands, the truck and camper pull away....uh, bye, thanks for the help, buddy. I chatted with the friendly cyclist for a bit, he asks if I can make it home. I say, yes, thank goodness I live a half mile from here. He says he's glad I appear to be ok, and I thank him for checking on me and not making me feel too much like an idiot. Then I say something like "ugh, this is going to make this race I'm doing tomorrow pretty interesting". He says something like "yeah, buddy, have fun with that". Then we go our separate ways.

I made it home ok, and surprised Andy who doesn't expect to see me for a little while yet. Then she went into full-on crisis support mode when she saw the blood, and started grabbing towels and the hydrogen peroxide. I scrubbed and scrubbed at my various scrapes, knowing that getting them cleaned up was priority number one if there was any hope for me racing the next day. Amazingly, I was pretty calm throughout all this, a fact that Andy pointed out numerous times. Normally, with something like this, I'd be going crazy with frustration, embarassment, and anger. Turns out, I may have been in "a bit" of shock still at this point. Anyway, as more and more clothes came off, we discovered more and more road rash, which required more and more scrubbing. Yipee!! After about 20 minutes, I decided it was time to get the rest of me cleaned up, so I headed for the shower. It was, as expected, painful, but I managed to gut through it ok. The weird thing is, I was feeling so ok at this point, I was already thinking about getting the blog post written soon after I got out of the shower. In fact, I had Andy take some pictures, to "spice up" the blog.

Next stop was the bathroom to get things bandaged up and get on with the day. Hmmmm....not so much. After pouring some hydrogen peroxide directly on my hands and leg, we started getting the bandages on. That's about the time when I said "Uh, Andy, I think I need to sit down". Next thing I know, I'm sitting on the toilet seat and my head is spinning and feeling very weird. Yep, passed out. Niiiiicccceee!!! Poor Andy then went into freak out mode, after slapping me back to the real world, and advised me to put my head between my legs. I followed orders, and then the sweating began. Whoa. Not feeling too hot now. Maybe I'll wait on that blog thing. I made it to a lying down position on the bathroom floor, and ever so slowly began to feel better. Meanwhile, Andy called Kirk for a consult, and true to form, he sped over to assess the situation. Immediately after seeing me on the floor, he mentioned that he wasn't sure how it was possible, but that I looked whiter than normal. Thanks, buddy. Then he asked how the bike was. I told him I thought is was ok, so we proceeded to more mundane things like maybe getting some sugar/calories in my system. A glass of Gatorade, one of lemonade, a handful of pretzels, and a PowerBar Triple Threat bar later, I was able to sit up slowly. Kirk did an amazing job of calming both me and Andy down, and not making me feel like an idiot (although I did...its hard not to when you are laying on the bathroom floor). Once we were all convinced that I was going to live and didn't need to go to urgent care or anything, we discussed plans for the race the next day. I of course really wanted to race, but knew that it might not happen. At the end of the night, we decided to make the call in the morning. I did a wetsuit test, just to see if I could get it on and off without too much trouble. It went well, which buoyed my spirits a bit, but I knew that alot would depend on how I felt when I woke up the next morning.

I find it amazing how fast your brain moves when you are in crisis mode, and more so when you are in pain/passed out. I am also very thankful that I had a good support team who rallied to my aid when I needed it. Andy was amazingly calm (or at least she appeared to be) and her concern for me was very sweet. She was probably pretty beat after her hard 7 mile run, but she totally put all of that aside to take care of me. And Kirk again stepped up as only a good friend who's "been there" could, and helped take care of both me and Andy.

As I went to bed, I was feeling pretty good, but also pretty dumb too. It was probably a much more dramatic few hours than it needed to be, and it really shouldn't have even happened anyway. Well, I guess you live and learn. Tomorrow should certainly be interesting......that story is next up! :)

Although there were many more pictures, this is the best "suitable for public display" one. Those should work really well in the swim tomorrow, eh? :D