For me, mountain biking is a lot like love. One minute you're flying high, elated and elevated as a bird in flight. The next minute you're sprawled on the ground in a crumpled heap, accessing bodily damage and brain function. As in love, mountain biking measures out both elation and devastation, and the latter can happen in the blink of an eye.
I'm sitting at Rv Daisy's dining table as I write this post. In leu of ice, a bungie cord holds a bag of frozen peas atop my collarbone while I surf Web MD for a diagnosis as to whether I should go to the ER for an Xray.
My hope to bike Arizona's mountain bike trails hangs in the balance. The good news is that it appears (so far, anyway) I've escaped a brain-bleed...no faintness, headache or blurry vision...and I can still wiggle fingers and toes and spell words backwards. The bad news is that I can't seem to raise my left arm more than a few degrees.
Barring a compound fracture, it seems there isn't much one can do for a damaged or even a hairline fractured collarbone beyond immobilizing the arm in a sling. Web MD's prognosis is 4 to 6 weeks of light duty and physical therapy to regain range of motion. E-motion ranges from weepy-eyed sadness to being considerably pissed off. It could be worse, I guess.
There is Orwellian irony to this story in that, of all the sketchy single-track and rocky ATV trails I've been riding around this camp, my crash and burn happens on a maintained county road...on my way to ride the hazardous shit. How does that happen, you ask. I don't know, but I think it had something to do with all the loose sand and gravel that gets pushed to the side of the road by cars and trucks and trying to dodge a mesquite brand that overhangs into the road.
Dazed, I had enough sense to pick myself up and drag the bike out of the road, blood running from elbows and knees. Adrenalin and shock masks pain, enough that I remount the bike and peddled off another couple miles to meet Chris at his camp for a planned ride.
Chris takes one look and fetches a first aid kit. We set to work on cuts and abrasions till they quit bleeding. He kindly offers to take me to the ER or clinic, but not wanting to expose myself to "the virus," I politely decline. A half hour passes and I feel good enough to ride. Off we go, with substantial timidity on my part.
Somewhere around mile 14, while dragging my bike up a steep, rocky hill with one good arm, it hits me. I needed to get back to home base and lay the fuck down.
Thus, the frozen peas and an assortment of gauze and bandaids, and the worry about when I might be able to remount and ride.
Fortunately, it was only a couple days layoff. I stuck to the easier trails and decided time would take care of the rest. Range of motion is slowly getting better, but still painful to turn over in bed.
Meanwhile, here are photos from recent bike rides...some post-crash...
Guess who's back in camp, just in time for her birthday???
Just another day on the trail...
mark and bobbie and chris
Ouch! I saw the bag of peas in your last post. I didn’t realize it was that bad. Hope you’re OK! Try to keep your wheels on the ground at least until I can see you again. LOL. Love you big guy!ReplyDelete
Pretty pictures! Boy, when you wipe out, you wipe out!!!ReplyDelete
Feel better soon!ReplyDelete
I feel your pain as I have had similar red art work on my elbows/forearms, usually thorn bushes scraping by. I now invoke a bit of insurance in the form of G-Form elbow/knee pads. Light enough so that I will wear them when out on the trail.ReplyDelete
Glad to read that it wasn't as bad as first thought. An acquaintance, 35 years old, lost a lower leg in a "simple" mountain bike accident three months ago. On a trail he'd ridden dozens of times.ReplyDelete
We hope to be viewing some of that beautiful scenery in a couple of weeks. Stay safe...jc
Mother of God, we are having to deal with these Fascist trying to take over our government so we turn to our Bloggers for some thrilling adventure and enlightening commentary on the backcountry of the Southwest and what do we get, it's bad enough that we are approaching the end of our journey and our good friends are crashing & burning right before our eyes, dam, these golden years are turning out to be more than we signed up for :)ReplyDelete
Bobbie can you talk some sense into the Big Guy, there's too much blood being spelt on this blog :)
Stay Thirsty My Friend
A & D
I second your motion, Bobbie, pls talk some sense into Mark!Delete
Beautiful pictures! Take care and keep well. We need more pictures.ReplyDelete
Happy Birthday, Bobbie
Fewer words but I'm kinda with Anonymous. At least if you are blogging you are still alive. Mark!!!!ReplyDelete
Accidents happen. Sure hope you heal fast.....-scampReplyDelete
Ugh, sorry you're hurt. I took a couple of hard hits while riding my fat bike in the mountains earlier this week — washed out on ice once, and crashed on an unseen but still obstructive rock another time. I was uninjured but too sore to do much for several days. "I'm too old for real mountain biking," was a thought that crossed my mind. So kudos to you for sending it in that rocky, prickly place.ReplyDelete
It seems to me that you were leaking out some very expensive blood thinner.ReplyDelete