Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Road Rash Sucks: How Rosanne Met the Pavement


Sunday morning, the day after the crash.  Gross!  This isn't even all of it, just some of the worst parts...
 

Well, last weekend was sure..eventful.
I had a 60 mile training ride on the schedule.  Got going in the morning, looking forward to finishing up and spending the rest of the day in Redmond watching Crit racing at Derby Days and Juniors/Masters State Championship Track racing.
I’ll be honest, it was a great ride.  I had some guy give me some great encouragement on East Lake Sammamish (telling me I “hold my speed really well” and that it took him a long time to catch me, etc).  Some good climbs, not too worried about pushing it but feeling strong.  30 miles in, I turned around at the top of Duthie Hill Road, and figured that there was more space for a break at the bottom of the hill.  “I’ll just go down the hill and then text Allen I’m halfway, have a gu, and head home.”
So I sped downhill.  The bike lane is pretty non-existent on the way down, but the curves and speed of the road make it natural to ride in the road anyway.  I was looking far ahead, planning my line around the bends in the road, and feeling good.  I remember seeing one sign that said “Welcome to King County” and thinking “oh, I didn’t realize there was a county line here.   Weird.”
I noticed another sign said the speed limit was 35mph, so I looked down and saw my speed was in the 35-40mph range.  “Good,” I thought.  “It’s fine that I’m in the road because I’m going the speed limit anyway, so I won’t be in the way of any cars.”  In fact, I made sure to keep my speed up, so that I wouldn't hold anyone up; even shifted up and put it in the big gear for the first time ever going downhill, so that I could pedal and keep my speed up there.  Lalala, not a care in the world.  I was a little thirsty, so made a mental note to be sure to drink plenty of water at the bottom of the hill.
Remember how I was looking far ahead?  Yeah, that means that when there’s cracks in the road that run perpendicular to your path, you really can’t see them.  I sure felt it, though.  A sudden, jamming bump (I thought I hit a pothole), and I felt my rear wheel kick up.  That bike is super stiff, and I definitely felt the shock ricocheting though the frame.  I skidded sideways on my front tire, thinking I could save it and be fine, but no—the rear wheel eventually flipped up, and I went flying over and around and slid to a stop.
Mid-slide, I had a flashback to mountain biking.  I was sliding down the road, I could feel my skin scraping off, and all I could think of was that this is a lot more like mountain biking.  I could see the trails in my mind, and felt like I was on the Kona.  Except on the mountain bike, the dirt feels a lot softer, and you can roll down a hill.  This time, I was sliding down pavement, wearing nothing but a tri top.
I came to a stop.  I tried to figure out what was happening.  Did I really just crash on the road?!  Seriously?!  No....  There was a car behind me (I am so, SO thankful that the driver was giving me ample space on the descent AND that he was alert and able to stop behind me in time), and the driver came running out.  He was obviously horrified, and really worried about me.  I realized my right foot was still clipped in (I was laying on my left, with my bike still between my legs), so I got unclipped and managed to stand up.  The driver helped gather my bike, all while asking if I was ok, and if I needed an ambulance.
Adrenaline rushing, I had no idea what had happened or how I felt.  I knew I was beaten up and out of breath, and noticed my elbow was bleeding.  "Must have gotten my elbow scraped up, oh well" I thought.  I leaned up against the barrier on the side of the road, and insisted (repeatedly) that I just needed to take a break and catch my breath.
“Are you…sure?  I mean, really, you look really..like..oh gosh, no, you really need help.”
There were passengers in the car, and they were out by then, also trying to help make sure I was ok.  Many offers to call 911, but I kept saying no, I’m ok, I just need to catch my breath.  I think I told one lady to “please, just wait a minute before you call, I think I’m ok.”  I know they were concerned and wanted to help, but at that moment, I needed to just take a minute to collect myself and not think about anything else or ambulances or anything.  I needed to get myself figured out.
Just a couple minutes after I fell, a police car was driving up the hill the other direction.  The driver of the car flagged down the officer, who obviously stopped and asked what had happened.  She took over, and let the other guy go, as well as directed traffic since I was starting to cause a back-up.
Meanwhile, I tried to collect myself.  I found my waterbottle and saddlebag, as well as my speed sensor that had come off my wheel.  I did a lot focusing on breathing, since I felt so out of breath.  Once traffic was flowing, the officer came to check on me, and said she was calling an aid car whether I wanted it or not.
I knew I needed to contact Allen, but didn’t really know what to say.  I texted him to call me, and left a message with him, briefly explaining I had crashed, and that I was banged up but OK, and told him to call me.
The aid car came, and they loaded me up and moved just a bit further down the road so that we weren’t blocking any more traffic.  A couple more police cars showed up, along with the firetruck that always accompanies the aid car; I think I talked about being embarrassed that I was causing such a big scene, with so many cars and trucks and flashing lights everywhere; I mean, I was just a little biker who had a small tumble, no need for all this!  The firemen gathered my bike and I think even loaded it into their truck, assuring me they could take the bike to their station to keep it safe if I wanted.  Overall, I had a lot of people coming in to tell me my bike was looking ok, aside from a rear flat. :)  I was happy they understood that that was the important thing I was most concerned about, since I myself felt relatively ok and just sore.
The medics looked me over, checking my spine, neck, pelvis, ribs, feet, collarbone (I told them I knew what that felt like, and that it wasn’t broken), lungs, head, and everything else.  They took my pulse and measured the O2 in my bloodstream… “98% and 62bpm…yup, you’re a cyclist!”
After checking for a concussion (I did hit my head, but my helmet definitely did its job!), they wrapped up my arm which was still bleeding a ton.  Unfortunately, the other major areas didn’t lend themselves to wrapping (shoulder/back and upper thigh), so they let them be.  They told me that they always err on the side of caution, and that they would like to take me to the hospital just in case, but that it was my choice.  I said no.  I made sure there wasn’t anything in particular they were concerned about and would have the hospital check, but they said it would be just “in case” something started to go wrong; I took my chances and figured it I started feeling terrible all of a sudden, I would go to the hospital.
One of the police said he would stay with me there, as Allen was on his way to come get me.  He offered to take me to the station to wait, but that was out in Fall City even further, and I had already told Allen where I was and just wanted to keep things easy.  So I was let out of the aid car, thanked everyone profusely for all their help, and sat on the side of the road with my bike.
Plenty of cyclists passed me, heading up the hill: some would turn and stare at me, since I was bloodied up with ripped up clothes, and a police escort; some would very pointedly ignore me and not look at me at all; one asked if I was ok.  I kind of laughed, and said “yeah, I’m fine..” and when he kept looking at me in disbelief, I added “just be carefully coming down hill” he nodded solemnly, and kept going.
I sat and waited.  I stood and waited.  Sitting down meant getting dead grass stuck in my open wounds, but standing up meant my back muscles would seize up.  Everything was starting to hurt, but from what I could tell, it was just muscular soreness from coming to an abrupt stop on pavement; nothing felt particularly out of place, or wrong, and the pain wasn’t sharp or unusual.  I did a few look-overs of my bike, and was relieved that everyone seemed to have been telling the truth: it would need further evaluation, but there was nothing glaringly obvious.  I was sure that the drivetrain would be mangled, but all that had happened was the chain came off (and one of the police or firemen had actually put it back on for me while I was in the aid car, how nice!) and otherwise, not even a scratch on the derailer.  The entire cockpit was jammed down, but that could be adjusted back into place; otherwise, there wasn’t a scratch on the frame itself.
The carbon on the front of the brakes was all scuffed up.  Definitely not aesthetically pleasing, but at first glance, didn’t seem to be too bad or affect function.  The only thing I could see was a slight spot on the front near the scuffed-up brake levers, where it looked like there might be a crack in the carbon.  Or maybe it was the clear overcoat that just was cracked.  Or maybe it was just hairline crack that was nothing to worry about.  Or maybe the entire right side was about so snap off and needed to be replaced and oh gosh, stop looking, Rosanne!  Not much to do about it now.
(I did take another look at my bike last night; I brought the bars back up, and checked the rest of the bike again—not even a scratch on the frame.  Still worried about the potential crack, but will have someone else take a look.  I tried putting some weight on it to see if I could feel any give, but it was kind of hard to tell in my current state.  The only other thing I found was that the rear wheel is all bent.  Not sure if it can be trued, but in any case, that likely contributed to the crash.  I’m guessing that the big bump ended up bending the wheel, which in turn caught the brake and flipped me over.  The tire deflated along the way, so something definitely hit it hard.  Alternatively, it got bend while flipping through the air and crashing to the ground...)
And that’s the story.  Now I’m here, bored, but also beaten up and not able (or really wanting) to do much of anything.  Seafair triathlon next weekend is off.  This is really depressing, and I’m trying not to think about it.  Even Nationals is questionable, but we’ll see how soon I can start swimming again—fingers are crossed.  I hate seeing each day go by, and a big fat “zero” for my training that day.  I need to get my bike fixed, get a new helmet, get new shoes (also destroyed), and new shorts since my favorite pair are now ripped to shreds on the leg.  I also need new skin, please.


The offending crack in the road.  Fix this, King County!


The helmet that saved me.  So thankful it did it's job!!


All jammed down; I have since re-aligned it and looks much happier :)


The most damage on the left side.  I can thank the entire left side of my body for protecting the bike.  Judging by me left leg, it certainly saved a lot.


Potentially the most worrisome, if this is truly a crack, and truly a problem.
 
Aside from the protential crack issue, this is the worst of the damage.  Not pretty, but so far the brakes appear to work just fine.

3 days later - back


3 days later - arm

3 days later - leg (upper)

3 days later - leg (lower)

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