Life is better on a bike!

Category: bike accident (Page 2 of 2)

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.

As someone caught in an emotional riptide, this resonates with me so much. I am caught in the flood, overcome by it, drowning. Not seeing a way across or through, but I will begin again.

Do you relate to this, in any way? I would love to know what any of you think if you are comfortable sharing.


From Sharon Salzberg

Acceptance doesn’t mean succumbing to what’s going on. When we succumb to a situation, we collapse into it, or become immersed in it or possessed by it. While trying to cross the flood, instead of moving we linger and we drown, we get possessed by the waves of the flood, we are overcome by them. Yet acceptance clearly doesn’t mean we struggle against the waves. Trying to push against the waves or push them out of the way exhausts us and is futile. We have to use the momentum of each wave on the crossing to help us go along. But it takes a special kind of strength to be able to be this delicate, to be able to be in the middle of the flood, not sinking and not thrashing around. The crossing of the flood is only accomplished one moment at a time. The art of this accomplishment is the ability to continually begin again. This is the other side of letting go, the doorway letting go reveals. We set forth, we struggle or get muddled or anxious, we lose our balance, and then realizing it, we begin again. We don’t need self-recriminations or blame or anger. We need a reawakening of intention and a willingness to recommit, to be wholehearted once again.

Excerpt from ‘real change: mindfulness to heal ourselves and the world

I am not sure how many people read my blog any longer since I disappeared on you and have only posted from time to time the last few years. So I feel pretty safe admitting something here that I wouldn’t say out loud or put on Facebook or Twitter. Here it is:

The weather is too nice. Way too nice. Low 70’s, sunny and no wind.

What does that say to you my fellow cycling fiend? Right. And if you read Hit you know I can’t.

Honestly I wish I could skip Fall and go straight into winter and if you know where I live you know just how crazy a statement that is. Crazy but true. Painfully true and I feel bad for feeling that way. Which is why I am only saying it here, where you are the only one to read it, our secret now.

I hate this. It is so hard being stuck inside, hell, in bed or the couch. It sucks. It has been 6 weeks, a long time to do nothing.

I hate it. Did I say that already?

Here it is: Fall has always been my favorite time to ride and it is so hard, so depressing not being able to. Depressing in a way that is darker and heavier, harder to accept than my current injured state. I don’t know how to be this person I now am. Come on rain, gray days. I need you.

To be hit is every cyclist’s biggest fear, worry, nightmare. I was hit by a car August 2, 2021 riding a route I have ridden hundreds of times.

I am not yet recovered, physically or mentally. Not even close. My physical recovery could take a year. My emotional and mental recovery will take longer I expect.

If you have spent any time here, or just peruse this blog now, you will easily see that I love cycling. To put it quite simply, cycling is near and dear to my heart. Riding my bike is a core part of who I am and how I live. My thirty-one years of cycling had me at a fitness level that would be unachievable without those thousands of hours of sustained cardiovascular effort and tens of thousands of miles. Cycling is why I have a resting heart rate in the 40’s and a blood pressure of someone in their 20’s. I do not look, move, act or feel anywhere near my age – all because of cycling.

That has now changed. Time will tell to what extent those changes are permanent. I wonder sometimes if the driver ever thinks about what he took from me. First, even if he does think about me, he has no idea what he took away. What he took from me in the present and the future. I am unable to find the words even to explain it to you in this blog post, but I feel it and only a cyclist who has been seriously injured while doing what we all love can understand. If you are one of those cyclists, or have ever been part of this horrible club no cyclist wants to be a part of, I could use some encouragement from you or to hear how you made it through. Because presently I do not see a way forward to being who I used to be.

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