The Inflection Point

At the end of August I was participating in a solid group ride with friends in the George Washington National Forest. We had completed a majority of the big route when I decided to peel off from the group and bomb down the Tillman West trail. The trail I was embarking on is one I’m very comfortable with and have ridden aggressively many, many  times over the last 11 years. Unexpectedly, I had a crash that has started a new chapter in my life. Over the next few blog post I’ll try relate what’s happened and hopefully discover and share some valuable lessons that might help others.

A gathering storm

During the work week leading up to the Sunday group ride, I prepared my XC race bike for the SM100. The race was less than 2 weeks away and I always like to get everything sorted and shook down. This time, I had signed up for the 100k version. I looked forward to a more modest length for my 12th SM.

On a lunch ride at Dogwood Dell trail in Richmond, I was riding fast, and a large deer jumped out of the brush right in front of me and scrambled like a cartoon. It happened so fast and so close that I did not have time to brake as I looked directly at the deer’s ass while it essentially did a burnout. Man, that was close! I still have memories from when a deer knocked me down at the Monster Cross race in 2013.

Like most mountain bikers and outdoors folk, I’ve had many other interactions with animals and insects. In 2012 I got stung on the nose by a wasp and my face swelled up to the point I was unrecognizable. Sometimes when you go to urgent care in that type of state, they just get the doctor straight away. I got adrenaline, saline IV, etc… that was an interesting set of things to get in your blood all at once. Post urgent care, I worked with an Allergist and went through 4 years of wasp and hornet venom injection therapy. Mother nature seems to have it out for me sometimes.

Great ride with awesome friends

The early morning gathering at the Wild Oak lot was full of folks I know from many years of riding and racing mountain bikes. There were some friends I had not seen in a few years. Lots of quick chats were had moving around the group as we rode the gravel to our big climb up Hearthstone. At the top of the big climb we regrouped in typical fashion.

We were ready to get down to business and made our way to the top of the big Wolf Ridge descent. I slotted in the group and was thinking about the double rock drop that’s been spooking me out of late. Before my shoulder surgery and lengthy recovery, I would hit that double rock drop without a second thought. However, since shoulder recovery, some moves like that still give me pause.

We dropped in on Wolf Ridge and descended at pace. I realized I might hesitate at the rock drops, so I pulled to the high side. Embarrassed, I watched the train bomb past me. Thats when the yellow jackets decided to bitch slap me. I felt a quick sharp pain and gazed upon the tiny yellow bands on my ankle. Then, they hit me on my back and underarm. Argh… I smacked them off, jumped on my bike ,and soon pulled up to the group’s tail at the rally point. Fortunately, my years of venom extract injections worked and I had no major issues. I thought to myself, “Well now today’s ride has a funny little spice to relate to my wife when I get home”.

The rest of Wolf was a blast. I was riding fairly well but noticed towards the bottom how tired I was getting. A full descent on Wolf is always tiring. We regrouped and proceeded to ride a ‘full narrowback’ route. Carp explained that we were going to do some extra credit after the Secret South trail. My thoughts went to how soon I’d run out of water, food, and probably motivation.

I moved to the back of the group as we headed south on the Festival trail. We regrouped, before heading out towards what I thought would be the next rally at the radio tower. After riding along the east flank of Narrowback,  I was pleasantly surprised that the group rally was at the split with Tillman West. Out of water, food and feeling like the rest would be a bit much for me, I let the group know I was going to peel off and take Tillman West down.       

In an instant, I reached an inflection point

Once on Tillman West trail, I could hear the group moving out of vocal range above me on the Radio Tower trail. I’ve found when I’m tired, it usually pays off to either ride easy or get on it. Riding half engaged can lead to mistakes. I chose to get on it at pace, just like I had the day before, hitting doubles, scrubbing rollers a bit, fun stuff.

On the upper portion of Tillman West, it’s a bit loose and rocky in spots. I was riding at a fairly aggressive pace. Suddenly the front went, and I knew I had a low side crash in progress at speed. As I crashed, my left knee hit a rock with a direct strike and a lot of energy from the speed. I don’t clearly recall the specific sensations. There was a loud knock sound, and that was bad. Then a brief moment of total darkness. As I came to a stop, I knew I was hurt seriously. My vision snapped back, and I looked at my knee.

Some things once seen, cannot be unseen.

My left knee was almost unrecognizable. I had a huge laceration; I was looking into the joint. My kneecap was MIA. I noticed a lump at the base of my quads above the knee.  I thought, “Is this where the kneecap is, or at least parts of it?”.

“Fuck”

It’s business time

I sat myself up along the side of the trail and took a moment to gather myself. The injury was quite serious and presented with a very large open laceration through all skin layers, etc… with the joint visibly exposed. No kneecap in there.

Alone, I knew I had to get myself out of this. Fortunately, my mental focus came swift and clear with the knowledge that the risk of shock was high. I was also keenly aware of the serious risk of infection from the type of huge open fracture before my eyes. From many prior crashes, I figured I had about 25 minutes before real pain would hit.

Business time.

I carry a modest medical kit in one jersey pocket. Sterile pads, some tape, a few small alcohol swabs, and an EpiPen. Looking at it, I thought, “Shit, this isn’t much for what I have going on”. Covering the wound was a priority to prevent anything getting in it. I used the alcohol pads to clean ‘tape anchor locations’ around the wound. No way those alcohol pads could clean that meat abyss, what I needed was clean water to irrigate, but I had no water. I was able to tape a sterile pad over the site, but it was not held fully sealed over the injury perimeter, as I did not have that much tape. I needed a gauze roll, or stretchy Coban roll. Those were not available. “Shit”. I contemplated ripping my jersey apart, but I did not like that idea. Lots of effort, could kick up dirt while doing it, etc… Then I remembered my phone was in a gallon zip lock. I carefully ripped the base of that gallon zip lock open. Next I would have to get my bike shoe off the bad leg.

I had no idea what would happen when I moved that knee. I needed that zip lock to stay as clean as possible. The shoe had to come off… I went for it, and was surprised at little or no pain. The zip lock bag was now sort of a plastic tube with a zip lock closure on one end. I pulled zipper end up past my knee and used the zipper to cinch it to my leg. Now I had a plastic tube/skirt enclosing the field dressed wound. Using a strong hefty zip lock bag for my phone paid unexpected dividends in the current situation.

The great escape

Tillman West is actually not that rough of a descent with lots of smooth jump lines, etc… There are some rocky bits and root patches and it’s also mostly downhill. Riding down Tillman to get off the mountain to a main fire-road was clearly the best option to me.

I stared at my bike and contemplated “How I could get to it and get on it? Could I ride it?”.

Then I heard another rider coming fast down the descent. I started yelling and waving my arms. He stopped and I explained the situation, said that I really needed his help. He thoughtfully took a moment to get some details and reason out with me what the next step might be. I learned his name was Dave and based on his measured thoughtful responses, I knew I had some great help.

Taking stock, I reasoned that I was stable, lucid, and probably capable of riding my bike one legged off the mountain while trailing the bad leg behind and using my muscles to hold it back and up a bit. Dave helped me  to try to get on my bike. He steadied and supported my bad side as I limped to my bike, which he had stood up against a tree. I dropped the seat a bunch, and got on, and felt it out briefly. I felt confident and think I said something like “ok, lets give it a go” or something to that effect.

I rode down the whole mountain, pedaling one leg at a time in spots. I had to keep adjusting to riding one legged while holding the other leg up and back. The dropper post proved to be a crucial aid for altering position. In a few pedaly areas Dave jumped off his bike and gave me a push. I rode with measured confidence, no time for anything else.

My Stump-jumper full suspension trail bike was great, it smoothed things out a lot. I kept the pace very modest, but not too slow. To keep the rollers from throwing my body weight up and down, I used ‘scrub’ lines to arc across the rollers riding a curve across the face to the outside edge and back in. That seemed to help a lot to minimize weight transfers. Keeping some moderate speed helped rocky and rooty bits to stay smoother too. It was awkward to hold the bad leg extended out back and raised a bit, but I could modulate dropper height, and I figured it out.

We got to the bottom and over towards the creek and Dave suggested to help walk me down the bank and across. No way was I going to try to ride that. Thank goodness I was not alone as I would have had to hobble down the bank with my bike as a walker, and across the dry rocky creek bed.

Dave and I discussed what was next, and I thought maybe I should try to ride one legged down Tillman on the gravel back to the car. It was a longish section, but mostly down. Also, I reasoned I would not be left alone. Dave wisely advised I stay put. At this point I was still sort of contemplating if I could drive my manual Miata to the hospital. However, my clutch leg was not in good shape and what it could tolerate was unknown.

As we discussed, a friend of Dave’s rolled up on his gravel ride. I believe his name was Kevin. Dave discussed with him and they decided Dave would go get my car and Kevin would stay with me. These guys were on point.

Kevin was calm, collected, and really took care to monitor me and make sure I was off my feet and doing ok. I could immediately tell he was a seasoned cyclist like me and I was reassured by his thoughtful and sensible handling of me and the situation. My body was cramping from the awkward descent I had just done, as well as the ~3 hours of big riding (and resulting mild dehydration) I had done before the crash. That made me sit and fidget funny, but I voiced that it was likely the muscles re-acting to that weird riding I just did.

The really risky and tough bit was over. I had excellent help and was on a main gravel road. I focused on staying stable, out of shock, and trying to reason out coming options and choices.

Some other folks arrived and parked where we were.  They soon realized the situation and offered their help. Kevin did a really good job letting me know we were getting company and skillfully managed everyone. This really helped me stay objective and able to keep my mental load lightened. The other folks had a medical kit. Another key item that they also had was a Britta full of filtered water. I discussed with Kevin and the other fellow and we agreed the best thing would be to flush the wound with all that clean water best we could. Before removing my field dressing, I commented verbally to the effect that it was gnarly and if that could freak anyone out, maybe don’t look. We flushed the wound which definitely felt ‘interesting’ with cold water washing through the exposed joint are. Then we re-covered the site with sterile pads and my plastic bag tube.

Pretty soon Dave arrived in my car and immediately told me he was going drive me to the hospital. Inside, I was so relieved he said he was driving. I knew driving to the ER would be a lot faster than an Ambulance, and would also be a whole lot cheaper. Plus, I was stable, lucid, and not loosing much blood, and had a freshly irrigated and covered wound. Dave’s commitment to drive me was so relieving.

We took a moment to get me out of my jersey, and bike shoes. We changed socks and put on my street shoes. At the time I was focused on getting underway and did not think to try and wash off my unaffected limbs. Just get to the ER.

We got me in my car, a Miata, good thing I’m short. Once we got going, we discussed options and I asked Dave to drive me to Augusta Medical hospital. He mapped directions, and I also could tell him where to go at each turn. As we drove to the hospital I started to rally my troops. I called my wife who was in Richmond, and just gave the news to her straight with no fluff. She could start quarterbacking things and try to get in touch with my in-laws in Staunton. Kudos to my wife for taking the news with no dramatics and getting down to business!

With the main events sorted and underway, I had an opportunity to talk with Dave on the ~20 minute drive to the ER. In my mind, I knew I had ruined his day, and was asking a lot of him to drive me to the hospital I wanted, which put him a lot farther away from where he would need to go later. We talked a bit about typical things, occupation, family, etc… Hopefully, I was not annoying. Our conversation was the nominal type of folks getting acquainted. Normalcy in an abnormal situation. The opportunity to talk like that was very welcome.

We got to the hospital and rolled right up to the ER entrance. The security guard checked out my bike and asked me briefly bike type questions about it. A strange, but additional nice bit of normal conversation. Hospital staff brought a wheelchair out, and I gingerly got helped into the chair, pulling my bad leg up with my hands, and I noticed it was curiously wet under the knee, then I realized that was from the blood.  

Dave went in with me, fortunately the ER was not busy. As I checked in, he then parked my car and secured my bike on the rack with my lock, and brought me a shoulder bag I had with my wallet, car keys, etc… Dave made sure I was all good as I got processed.

I paused and took a quick moment to try and convey my deepest gratitude and said good by and thank you. As we spoke, Dave mentioned I had a lot of stuff getting ready to come my way. I knew he was right. However, the most dangerous and traumatic bits were likely over.

I went into the ER not knowing what would be found out about my injury and what would happen next. I had some ideas, but you never really know until you take the ride. What I did know is that I had just been helped by very well put together and caring people. I doubt they would desire the recognition here. I initially tried writing this up with “good Samaritan A” etc… but it reads very poorly that way. I suppose my point is they just wanted to help and were very modest. Dave and Kevin both had said that they just did what anyone would do. I’m sure glad they did, because it made a huge difference in my life outcomes.

Lessons in chaos, empathy, humility and self-actualization

I have a saying: “You never really know what a person is like until shit hits the fan.”

I’ve learned many times this saying also applies to yourself, and this event was no exception.

Emergency situations inherently will test you and anyone else involved. Those same situations also present an opportunity afterwards for reflection, self-awareness, and lessons to learn.

Here are some areas I’ve been digging into:

• Avoid riding remote trails alone, it could mean your life or a limb
• Have a properly stocked and sized medical kit on your person when riding, you never know when needed and if you will be able to get to your bike
• Get wilderness 1st aid training and learn about your anatomy and how typical injuries could present/affect mobility and function
• Be confident in yourself, stay in the game, but know when and how to question yourself, when to get help
• Stay fiercely positive! When the chips are down embrace hope and optimism

While navigating through all the challenges and trauma, I’ve surprised myself a little with my ability to stay very positive. Experiences gained from my shoulder surgery and years long recovery taught me it’s  the only viable option. Sure, I’ve had a moment here or there. The morning of my 2nd day home from the hospital, I was exhausted from taking pills every 4 hours, not being able to sleep, terrible hiccups, and an persistent upset stomach. Doing anything was exhausting and required crutches and planning. Then, it just hit me hard that morning. Pretty heavy feels, sads, some tears. However, I just had to emotionally pick myself up. I reminded myself of my physical pain and discomfort pushing on my mental state. So, I dug my mental heels in and rallied, acknowledge those feels and then showed them the door.

Something else unexpected for me was learning that the rescue experience was described as traumatic by one of the folks who helped me. I totally missed thinking about that potential outcome, and didn’t really anticipate it because he was so calm and modest through it all. Knowing it was traumatic for him gave me more feels, and that much more appreciation. It was a big reminder to try and practice empathy and put yourself in other people’s shoes. Empathy is hard, you have think outside yourself, your situation, your mind a bit. It’s one of the hardest skills to develop and also very valuable. I’m in constant practice.

So much to learn from the experience.