This Could Ruin My Season...

Mountain biking is an inherently dangerous sport. The general rule is its not a matter of IF you crash...but when. You never know when the rock or root will throw you off line, when a turn is too loose to hold the wheel, clip a tree with the handlebars, or even just choose a bad line. For most of my time riding a mountain bike I’ve been fairly fortuitous when it comes to crashing: I don’t crash with that much frequency and if I do they rarely cause major injuries. But it does happen.

This past Saturday started like any other. I woke up early, ate breakfast and drank some coffee, then packed up the gear and head to the trail. In this case the East Overlook Trailhead on Raccoon Mountain. I prepped my gear and bike and waited for everyone else to show up. After some short conversation we head off into the woods. I was second into the woods and not pushing particularly hard on East Rim(a trail I’ve ridden hundreds of times) when I clipped an off trail rock with my pedal. A fluke of a thing that happens on occasion, but rarely ends terribly. This time I was going fast enough that it threw the whole bike off line and I did a complete yard sale into the dirt, tumbling over on my right side. I knew as soon as I hit the ground that it was bad. I picked myself up while everyone behind me checked to make sure myself and the bike (the real priority here) were OK. The bike emerged with a broken saddle, I wasn’t so lucky.

After some encouragement by me the rest of the guys left off to continue the ride while I walked the bike back to the trailhead. Lifting up the bike onto the bike rack confirmed what I felt…at least one fractured rib, possibly two. I had the same injury 8 years ago, so I know exactly what it feels like. I slowly changed clothes and limped myself back to Jordan’s house. When I got there she had a look of concern on her face because she knew I was planning to be gone for several hours, yet here I was home way sooner then expected. Being the amazing mother that she is, she insisted on torturing me (I mean cleaning my road rash) with rubbing alcohol. I had little time to sulk though because we were also celebrating her son’s 8th birthday on Saturday. So I slowly limped my way through the rest of the day, aided by ibuprofen, bourbon, and Jordan assisting me where needed since normal tasks hurt.

So where does that leave the rest of the race season? In doubt. The last time I fractured my ribs I was out for 6 weeks and when I returned I still felt pain in that area for another 3 weeks. These were shorter race though, not 6 and 10 hour epics. I’m sure I’ll be healed up the for the races later in the season, but the imminent ones are doubtful to say the least. Hardford 50 is out for sure as its this weekend. Bartram PM on August 22nd is looking doubtful as well, as its less then 4 weeks away. Shenandoah 100? Exactly 6 weeks out, so its in limbo. Maybe I’ll be healed by then and maybe not. I’m less worried about pain while riding and more worried about re-injuring by riding for 100 miles on trail I don’t know.

As of Monday morning I feel…not too terrible. I can’t lift much of anything with my right arm if it weighs more then a couple pounds. I also can’t lay on my right side and getting up from sitting or laying down is a painful experience. Otherwise I’m moving around fine and breathing like normal. Tonight I’m going to give the trainer a try and see what happens. That will be my life for the next two weeks so I can keep the legs fresh. I’ll hope to ride on the road shortly thereafter then maybe introduce some trail on week 5 to see how it feels. Right now my goal for 2020 looks to be at risk. I’d like to say this was a surprise, but I mean 2020 has been a bit of a disaster anyway; so I should’ve been expecting this all along.