I woke up from pain last night, more than once – which is typical for me now, and wondered if you ever think about me? Wonder how I am doing? How did my surgery go? And my recovery? Do you even know I had to have surgery to fix what you caused to be broken? Do you even care?
It has been 10 weeks today since the accident wrecked my body and my life and yet I have never even heard from you. I find that staggering in its neglect and lack of humanity.
You did speak to me that day. While I was waiting on the ambulance to arrive so I could be taken to the hospital for what I knew was a broken leg or hip, and whatever else I wasn’t yet aware of – but I was painfully aware of that. But when I asked you if you were the driver, because I could see it on your face, you nodded and said, “I’m sorry”. And my humanity allowed me to feel bad for you, and I tried to assure you I would be okay! Isn’t that just crazy! That I would care for you and how you were feeling even though I was in excruciating pain – but that is who I am – and this is obviously who you are.
That is the last I heard from you – which is just so wrong. How do you get to be so clueless, care-less, when not a day in my life has looked like my life did before you pulled right out in front of me.
I live with the results of that every single day and you just get to stay oblivious. That is not right. I have lasting injuries from being hit by you. Injuries that will require more surgery if they can be fixed.
I have paid dearly every day, and as it stands now, I may have to pay forever for your inattention. What about you – what has it cost you?
By soul work, I mean the work I have done in therapy and through my writing practice to recover my soul, my essential self, not the self blindly constructed to fit in. Initially, I resisted going to therapy for the same reasons others do: a belief that I should be able to handle my problems myself, the vague shame and stigma attached to needing therapy in the first place, and lastly, I feared making myself vulnerable. Without that openness though, therapy can’t work its magic.
I had this sense I was being held back in my life by all I had been holding in. Therapy and writing helped me to reconnect with my soul and heart, and consequently also led me to view my mind with healthy skepticism. We should all be skeptical of what our minds tell us, always, still, I started seeing my mind, body and soul as interwoven aspects of myself, rather than separate parts, each needed and important for living fully.
So what does this very personal confession have to do with cycling? Therapy is helping me deal with the overwhelm of the accident. My therapist supports me as I feel and process the many consequences of the accident – including the emotional trauma of my injuries – the wounds to my spirit and soul – which have all been overwhelming. For much of the first few weeks, I had reoccurring nightmares replaying the accident from the hit to being thrown to crashing onto the street. Thankfully they don’t happen like that any longer but I notice even being in the car I am anxious and have an overreaction to the typical bad behavior of drivers – and that’s as a passenger. I can’t even begin to imagine ever riding on the road again. When cycling on roads you have to stay calm, focused, and just fully attuned to everything happening around you – in front, behind, to the sides, the road surface, other riders, etc. to ride and keep yourself safe – and still, you can be hit!
At times it all feels like more than I am capable of withstanding, like an assault on my very being. The pain, emotional and physical, is overwhelming at times and I end up in the emotional equivalent of the fetal position. Curled up against the world, tucked inside myself, hiding – trying to just survive. I have been in that curled-up state a lot over the last eight weeks.
I write to keep from going under completely and it helps, but only so much. Two days ago it all overwhelmed me and I gave in to the emotion, the pain, and I let it out. On paper and then in my therapy session. I let go, and felt, and cried – I grieved for what was and what now is.
Afterward, I felt a shift, maybe a bit of healing. And yesterday, the day after, I went out into the world, to my favorite place to hike and walked using my cane. Not far at all, but it was uplifting and soul-full. The sunshine and birds and the signs of autumn all around me helped me feel a little like myself. I snapped this selfie to capture this ‘coming out’ moment.
I was reminded on Facebook today that a year ago I posted on some early autumn rides. Cycling in fall, I remember those rides and sights vividly, even viscerally.
I also remember, like the post says, that I didn’t take the cycling for granted. How I knew even while it was happening, how special it all was and how lucky I was to be doing it. My riding partner says I used to say it a lot while we rode along and after. Day after day of perfect weather. It was that kind of experience – too good to be true – you simply couldn’t believe your good luck.
What a year I had cycling, I will never forget it.
A few pics from recent rides. I’m really happy to have exceeded 600 miles again this month. That’s 3 in a row (and October would make 4).
September 616 miles, August 652, July 627
Pleased to have raised $535 for Cleveland Clinic’s VeloSano.
Happiest of all to still be cycling. Especially now. 🚴♀️💞
September 30, 2020
Berkshire road, my favorite in the fall, a climb I used to avoid but it’s easy this year
Love Cycling in Fall
Chagrin River road near Gates Mills, one of my favorite stretches. Love following the river. So many more people out cycling this year. Love that too. *I was hit maybe a mile from this spot, in Gates Mills
Spinning wheels and fallen leaves – doesn’t get any better
Writing here, like riding, connects me to the bike. Presently I am writing about my love of riding in lieu of practicing that love.
Driven back into writing because of the accident, it seemed like a poor substitute for the real thing initially, and is, sure, but it is also a good thing in its own right. Both riding and writing require commitment and practice and both will reward you for it. (My bike skills consequently are way better than my writing skills).
No way am I saying writing here is as good as riding out there. But posting here connects me to my love of riding while I recover and for now, that’s what I’ve got. That’s life sometimes. It giveth and it taketh away but it also leaves us with possibility.
Texas Hill Country, I loved cruising along these quiet rural roads
Riding
The best summer of riding I can recall ever having was last summer, then fall too. I actually remember thinking at the time that I would likely never have another year of cycling like it.
For one, the weather was perfect! Day after day of the best weather a cyclist could ask for – nice temperatures, no wind to speak of, and little rain. Five months of the best fun two wheels can offer and I loved it. It was so great, and I was so grateful to have it and experience it all. It was months of nothing but cycling because the summer of 2020 was marred by the pandemic. Not like there was a lot that was safe to do, stores and restaurants were closed, people were home and if you wanted to be somewhere other than home it was outside. *Yes I know it was a horrific year for all of us because of what happened to so many of us, but this piece is not about that – no disrespect intended.
Summer 2020
Summer of 2020 was about the bike in a global way and in a personal way. I rode nearly every day. I rode to deal with loneliness and isolation but by far the reason I rode is because I loved it.
I am laid up recovering as I type so I can calculate the number of days. From my first to last ride in 2020 there were 168 days, of those I missed riding 22 days. Since being hit I have missed 53 days of riding, more than twice as much as I missed last year. No wonder I am so down.
I went from one of my best years of cycling to my worst. So I am feeling a big void and a huge loss. I lost so much August 2 that I am just now starting to comprehend. I lost cycling, I lost fitness, but I also lost part of myself, well beyond the injuries to my body. What about the injury to my spirit, my soul? I am at a loss as to what to do or how to be or who I even am if I can not be how I have been. That person last summer is me and I want her back desperately and if I indeed give up riding on the road isn’t she gone? I think so and I am grieving that loss.
I am an injured athlete now, but based on my age I have also been an aging athlete for a while now. Easy to write out in this post, but I struggled with accepting that I was past my prime – and on a downhill slide. I had accepted it somewhat, but then last summer blew my previous fitness levels and limitations on the bike away. They just weren’t as real as I had made them, not if I was willing to do the work, and I was, and did.
Cycling Story
Sonoma County, CA (that’s me in blue)
Let me tell you a story. Besides all the miles last summer, I already had a large mileage base built from riding 31 years. With yearly totals in the range of 2000-4500 miles, I had a cycling base of around 100,000 miles.
In July, feeling strong, I started playing this little training game. As riders would pass me I would try to catch them. Not overtake them, usually, but just see if I could reel them back in by pacing myself back up, and often I could.
One time two cyclists passed me going fast. I hadn’t noticed them as they came up stealthy and quiet, my riding partner and I had been talking. No cars around, so they took the lane and zoomed past us. I was in front of Mark so when I geared up he knew I was giving “chase”. Not chase in the classic sense, rather a slow chase. More like fishing, attempting to reel them in. Although they had a big jump on me, I was able to close the distance over the course of a few miles. I never actually caught them, but for most of the ride they were just ahead of me, until they disappeared and I thought they had dropped me for good.
I had driven to my ride start and as I pulled into the parking lot, who was there but the two cyclists who had passed me. One was still straddling her bike, the other looked up at me and grinned. They obviously hadn’t been there long and maybe were a little surprised to see me. The thing is they looked to be in their 30’s, way younger than me.
Those “chases” besides being fun made me stronger. One Sunday morning, one of those Sundays when the cyclists outnumbered cars, a group of 3 guys swung out into the lane to pass me. Don’t get me wrong, I am used to being passed by faster riders, over the years it has happened a lot. Most of the time I don’t even give them a thought when they pass and stay in front. The problem was these guys misjudged my speed, perhaps because of what they saw me to be, a woman, and a not-young woman at that. I ended up catching, passing, and dropping them. Later I slowed to wait for my husband and he rode up with the guys. One of them said to me something like what a good cyclist I was, (no mention of “for a girl”) to which I replied, “if you do something long enough you get pretty good at it and I’ve been doing this for 31 years”. That was met with a double-take.
Experiences like these had me questioning the whole “aging athlete” thing that I had just accepted without question and starting to consider that maybe it wasn’t as true as I had believed. That gave me a renewed enthusiasm and new-lease-on- cycling-life. It was exciting!
That excitement carried forward into 2021. I started my indoor training early on my Wahoo Kickr Core and began riding outside a month earlier than I had in 2020. Things were looking good, promising! I was excited, then I was knocked off my bike, my plans, goals, when a car hit me on a training ride August 2, 2021.
Recovery
My recovery will be a long road I am told. So far it is depressing as hell and mentally and physically very difficult. Fortunately, I have recently found a group of people who get that. They not only get it, they are living it too because they are also injured athletes, trying to cope with this profound loss we all feel and share. Many are much better athletes than I am, most are younger, we may participate in different sports, but we are all a part of this club no one wants to be a part of. I am so grateful to have them. (It has taken a while for me to see myself as an athlete – to own the word – because of my age and my lack of status, but I earned it so I own it.)
I notice that as I interact with them more about their recoveries, I am connecting more to my own loss and feelings, specifically my grief. As I heal from my physical injuries and have less physical pain, it is allowing my emotional pain to come to the surface. Another stage of recovery I guess.
In this group, there are people spread out all along the recovery continuum. I have had conversations with some about their injuries and sports. Some are similar to mine, others not, but there is one similarity that seems to be always present: the athlete archetype. There is tremendous grief with it too.
We are connected as we recover, we discuss our own experiences and support each other. I personally don’t have that in real life so that connection for me is invaluable. I have found my rehab tribe. Here is to recovering and riding again, and more writing too. If you made it to the end, let me know – you get a medal!🥇
Today I walked with the assistance of a cane about a third of a mile at a park, my first *outing*. I have been in pain ever since.
This is what I was doing a year ago today: cycling 52 miles in 3.5 hours.
I am so depressed and angry. My words fail to describe the depth of what I feel.
Sometimes I think I can’t do this. At times I am sure of it. The road is too long and difficult. One really long climb with an unknown destination.
No one knows what I will be able to get back to. It was damn hard to be where I was – to even get there. It was work. Yes I love to ride my bike. Yes it is fun. But it is work too! It’s hard! I had my best year of riding in more ways than one last year, which makes this even harder to deal with. I did rides like the one pictured below over and over racking up the miles and fitness.
In the years prior, I believed I had passed my cycling prime. To combat it I read a lot about aging athletes and what I could do to minimize the negative and maximize my abilities. I did it through diet, vitamins and supplements, indoor cycling, cross-training, improved rest and recovery practices and more – and it worked.
At my age I had still managed to improve. I had improved my climbing and my endurance and I was better than years before.
So when that car hit me August 2, I was knocked from as high a place as I have been in recent years.
I lost a lot. It isn’t going to come back easily – if it comes back in any meaningful way at all.
It’s disappointing and frustrating and depressing. I’m pissed about it but I feel way more sad. Overwhelmingly, I feel lost. Yes, I know it could have been much worse, but it could have also not happened.
For the Love of Bikes Blog (2009 – 2021) is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Based on a work at www.loveofbikes.com.
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