Normal people don’t understand

While on a ride after he stopped racing, Tris told me he was asked, “how does it feel to be a normal person again?” I don’t think it quite works that way. I still refer to him as “my teammate” even though he doesn’t race anymore.

Once you get sucked into this sport, it’s not something you do casually, and then it has a way of hanging on to you. Normal people don’t fully understand this — confirmed by the questions I was getting from the medical staff before and after surgery:

“So you were riding your bike and you fell off?”
“Does your bike have those skinny tires?”
“Did you ever do the Pedal to the Point ride?”

By strange coincidence, one of the RN’s on my floor at the hospital was Nick, a triathlete I know from the Thursday night Leroy time trial. He said the other nurses told him there was “a cyclist” on the floor. When he realized it was me, he told them, “that’s not just a cyclist”.

“They don’t get it”, he said, when he came in to talk with me. “I asked one of the nurses, you love to read, right? Well what if someone told you that you weren’t allowed to read a thing for the next 3 months? You’d go crazy.”

I’ve not gotten to the “going crazy” point yet. I think the severity of the injury has prevented that. When you can barely move your leg, it’s hard to imagine being on a bike. In that respect a broken collar bone was worse. My legs were OK and I could sit on a trainer, and it was maddening not to be able to ride outside.

I expect that at some point the “crazy to ride” feeling will arrive, and I will try to take that as another step in the recovery process.

Two shuffles forward

Waking up after surgery from the anesthesia, the faces hovering over me asked if knew my name, where I was, and why I was there. I remember saying “whoa, I was dreaming that I was in a bike race. I guess that’s not where I am.”

Then I said, “you fixed my leg, right?” They assured me they did. That moment was the first sense of relief I’d had since the time of the crash.

Back in my room, my leg felt like one of the Iberian ham legs I’d seen hanging in restaurants in Spain 2 months ago:

Very swollen, and the nerve block meant I couldn’t feel or move it. Actually I wasn’t disappointed that I couldn’t feel it.

I’m already getting the sense that each one of these little forward progressions will ultimately lead to the next frustration. The next day post-surgery, the PTs came in and tried to get me out of bed and standing, with a walker.

I told them I was starting to see stars. I don’t think they believed me until I promptly passed out and had to be put back on the bed. This went on the next 3 days. Not passing out, but being unable to do much more than go from the bed to a chair.

It was shocking to think that in the span of 3 days I’d gone from riding 28.5 mph at the Presque Isle time trial to being unable to stand with a walker for more than a minute or two. And also rather sobering to consider just how quickly your fortunes can change.

Day 5 post-surgery I finally started to feel a bit stronger and was able to stand and move a bit longer each day. Day 7 I was finally going home.

Which then has led to the next set of challenges and frustrations as I have to navigate the house, do things for myself, find a comfortable sleeping position (still working on that), and perhaps most difficult: keep from going crazy while being inactive.

So far the biggest accomplishment has been going to the kitchen and bringing coffee back to “my chair”. I’ll take it for now.

A Sunday in Hell

I distinctly recall talking with Joe Huth about the possibility of sliding down from up high on the velodrome banking. Joe said it had never happened to him (knock wood), but from what he was told, “you don’t have any warning. It just happens.”

That conversation flashed in my head as I felt my tires let go. It was a shock. I was just turning laps above the stayers line and then I was sliding.

I didn’t hit a pedal. I don’t know what happened really. The best explanation seems to be that the gusty winds that day slowed me up just enough in turn 1 that I went below the ‘safe speed’ and then physics took care of the rest.

When I hit the apron at the bottom I knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Usually after a wreck you get the bike off you and get up. Only I couldn’t. I looked at my right leg and thought “Marcus Lattimore” (S. Carolina running back injured last year. Video too gruesome to include here).

Next came the cascade of thoughts on all the training and then missing all the upcoming races. Same thing you would think when you realize you broke a collarbone.

But it quickly became apparent that this was going to be a whole lot worse. Screw the bike racing, I just wanted an ambulance, and wanted to get my leg fixed.

One of the things the EMTs and doctors ask (repeatedly) is your pain level on a scale of 0-10. I can say with certainty that I have a new definition of what “10″ is. The EMT said I was getting the “Saving Private Ryan dose” of pain killer, and I have to say I would not have known it. He told me, “yeah, it usually doesn’t do much in these cases.”

I count that I was moved 6 times from the infield at the track to when I went down to the OR. Each one of those moves rated a “10″. But the worst was when they tried to put my leg in traction for the night since surgery couldn’t happen until the next day. Pretty sure the entire ER heard it.

The diagnosis was broken femur, and “not a clean break”. I had made a few calls while in the ER, waiting for the X-Ray results, and I had said, “I can tell by the faces on the ER people that this is not good.”

When the doctor said they couldn’t do the surgery until the next morning, I was tempted to ask if they could take me across the street (i.e., the Clinic) but even if that was an option I knew I couldn’t tolerate being moved again.

Perhaps the most surreal part of the day came while laying in the ER waiting for my room to be prepared. For some distraction I flipped on the TV. There was some kind of news report flashing the names of “Amanda Berry” and “Gina DeJesus”. I knew the names, and was thoroughly confused. Were the pain killers making me disoriented? I fell asleep and didn’t learn until the next day what I had been watching.

This was my version of A Sunday in Hell, thankfully not captured on film.

***

I want to profusely thank Gary Burkholder, the other rider who was at the track, and the firemen from the firehouse down the street, who helped me out in those first minutes after the accident. Not sure I would have held it together without them.

***

Hat tip to John Lowry for this:

I have exclusive use of “10″

***

Reading the physician’s report of my ER visit, found this:

“… EMS gave him 4mg of morphine for pain that he stated was the worst in his life when they attempted to move him”

As long as I don’t have to get a tattoo

I can’t begin to count the number of times people have asked me the questions: why do bike racers shave their legs? Why do you wear those funny outfits when riding? Why are you all so skinny?

For the leg shaving, I’ve heard people offer up explanations about massage, road rash, etc. But I’ve always said: it shows that you’re part of the club.

That thought occurred to me while driving down to South Carolina to race, first on the track and then on the road. For a trip like this, I often save up podcasts of This American Life, which tends to make the drive seem to much faster.

While listening to the recent episode titled “Tribes”, I thought, “yeah, this could be about bike racers too”.

And then I pulled up at the Giordana Velodrome, where I was going to race that evening. I unloaded my bike, wheels, other gear, and went down to the infield. I sat and watched the other racers filter in, start changing cogs and chainrings, adjust chains, pin numbers on skinsuits. And it further occurred to me: this is a tribe within a tribe.

In pre-modern times, being able to identify who is “in” your tribe would help to determine who you can trust.

I hadn’t been on a track since November and was a little nervous getting started. I rode by myself for a while before jumping on to the back of a group that came by. Riding close, with no brakes, I was again reminded that you need to have a large amount of trust in the riders around you. So all those little quirky things that races do might actually serve a function.

The track racers at Rock Hill were super friendly. I asked about gearing and not only got advice but also offers to use cogs and chainrings if I needed. Then after the race I was offered a place to stay if I came down to race again.

I’m thinking that means I am “in”.

More manageable cycling trips

Having done of number of these spring riding trips, and trips to Europe in particular, I’ve learned a few things along the way on how to make it reasonably affordable and more enjoyable. Most of it I learned the hard way — by making mistakes.

Collect frequent flier miles
Airline tickets are usually the biggest single expense, so it helps if you can eliminate that right from the start. You don’t need to fly a lot to do this. Get a credit card that allows you to accumulate miles and then use it for everything.

Go in the off-season
Tourist season, that is, which is late spring and through the summer. Early spring, or fall is better. Hotels, flights, and other things are cheaper, and it’s less crowded.

Don’t do an organized tour
It’s way cheaper to do a cycling trip on your own. Yes, it can be a bit intimidating to do the first time, but if you’re willing to be patient, to make mistakes, be confused at times, you’ll be rewarded not only by saving money but by experiences you won’t get if someone else does it for you.

Find affordable housing
For young people that could be hostels. Also now there are many ways to book private housing where people rent rooms, apartments, etc. (e.g., AirBnB, HomeAway). In Alicante I found a small apartment with kitchen for 34euro per night). The main point is avoid large, American-style hotel chains.

Get a credit card with no international fees
That goes for ATM cards too. CapitalOne is the primary one that I know if. This can be a very big savings, as some will charge up to a 3% transaction fee. Use the ATM card to get cash; don’t change money here in the US or at airport kiosks as the exchange rate and fees will be terrible. Although it’s a good idea to at least have a little cash on arrival, just in case your card doesn’t work. Also a good idea to inform your credit card and bank companies that you will be making international transactions.

Make your own breakfast and lunch
And/or find a hotel that includes breakfast. Personally I like going into local stores and buying food that I can then make myself. Way cheaper, and often more fun, than eating every meal out.

Rent a bike
I’ve had pretty good luck renting bikes, rather than hassling with bringing my own. Airlines now charge ridiculous prices to fly with your bike, and then you have the added hassle of renting a car big enough to hold the bike case, putting the bike together, packing it up again, etc. I accept that a rental is not going to be as nice, and may not fit perfectly, but to me the reduced hassle is worth it. An alternative is to ship your bike — an option if you’re staying within the US but not to Europe.

Don’t overplan
I’m often guilty of this. Then find that it makes me even more stressed if things don’t go exactly as planned. One of the harder things can be finding and planning bike routes. It does help for this to do a bit of advanced planning to find recommended routes. You can do this with sites like mapmyride, or looking for local bike shops that have route maps, or local clubs, or just doing some Internet searching for recommendations. I remember coming across great routes in the Girona area via pro rider Michael Barry’s web site.

Carry a map, money, id when on the bike
That really should go without saying, but there have been times when I’ve forgotten, or feel (over)confident that I know where I’m going. Then make a wrong turn, or run into a detour. Or forget my water bottles and need to stop for something to drink. On this last trip I stuck a (car) GPS in my back pocket as a last resort in case I got lost (which I ended up using). See below.

Bring a GPS with local maps
If renting a car and driving, this is pretty much essential to reduce stress. On the bike, I would ideally like to have had a handlebar mounted unit rather than fishing maps out of my pocket all the time. Those tend to be too big for racing, but for riding in strange places would be very nice. On my “to purchase” list.

Choose more off-the-beaten-path locations
Especially if you are going to ride, but also I think this applies in general. For me, anyway. Seeing big cities is nice, but for me it gets old after a while. I am happier to find somewhere smaller and more manageable, where I can easily ride, walk, hike, have coffee, and experience some of the local culture. Even in Alicante, it took me about 20 minutes of riding to get out of traffic congestion. Somewhere like Barcelona would have been a mess.

Learn a little of the local language
At least some of the basics: greetings, please & thank you, do you speak English?, how much? where is the bathroom?, another beer please! etc. A little travel dictionary is very helpful. In some places, it doesn’t seem to matter. In Barcelona a waiter made fun of my daughter saying “your Spanish is funny.” But they are dealing with a mass of tourists every day. In other places, people seem appreciative when you try to speak their language rather than assume that everyone speaks English.

Most of all, keep and open mind and at least a bit of a sense of adventure.

Ride lots

When I returned from Spain, people at work asked how much I rode. When I said “about 33 hours over 8 days” (not counting the first day’s 45 minute spin), the common response was “I can’t imagine riding that much.” A few other cyclists even said that.

It does sound like a lot, but having done a number of these kinds of weeks now, my experience is that it’s quite amazing how quickly your body adapts. This is true for multi-day races like Superweek also. After the first couple of days you think there’s no way you can continue doing it, but then at a certain point it switches and you feel like you have to do it. Your body doesn’t feel right if you don’t go out and ride (or race).

I understand why the Grand Tour racers go out and ride for 3 hours on the race’s “rest days”. They feel worse if they don’t ride.

Coming back home, I had a full day of travel where I couldn’t ride. The next day though I was back outside again, riding for 2 hours. Then every day since then. Not at the same volume or intensity, but I wouldn’t feel right not riding (both mentally and physically).

I’m sure it helps that I have been riding for quite a few years now, and have built a pretty good base of fitness. I don’t think I’d tell a beginning rider to go ride 30 hours in a week. But I think even beginning riders can do a period of increased volume.

There are a couple of secrets to it: you have to back off the intensity to what you can ride every day. I’ve learned what happens when you ride too much at too high an intensity: you dig hole that’s hard to climb out from.

The other secret is that when you don’t have to work and can just ride, rest, eat … well, you can ride a lot more. So I just need to figure out how to solve that problem of needing to work.

Riding to eat

The week before I left for Spain, a bunch of stories on the health benefits of the “Mediterranean diet” were hitting the news.

Nice timing. I was already looking forward to eating in Spain. This just gave me a good excuse to indulge even more. If it’s healthy, I should do more of it, right?

We talked about this at dinner with the host family with whom my daughter is living, over homemade paella (which was, in a word, fantastic!) They said that yes, it seems healthier. But there were a number of ideas as to why: they tend to eat what’s in season and available locally; lots of fruits and vegetables in addition to all the olive oil; the big meal is in the middle of the day with the evening meal being lighter; wine with meals. But then an interesting thought came up: maybe it’s because we have nice weather and people are generally in a good mood.

Hmmm. Coming back to the awful “spring” weather at home, I think there might be something to the weather idea.

But I was more interested in the food ideas. Most cyclists I know will admit that they “ride to eat”. When you combine big rides every day with being in a great food location, you have a recipe for a good cycling trip.

Each day while riding I found myself thinking about what would be good for dinner. And then found myself taking pictures of every meal and emailing them. It was too good to keep to myself. Paella. Iberian ham. Seasonal vegetables. Many different kinds of tapas.

The best part was seeing my daughter before my eyes being transformed from the “picky eater” into someone willing to try octopus.

My first trip to Italy permanently changed the way I looked at food. It was there that I learned of the “slow food movement”. We ate simple, but amazingly-prepared, meals. Family-style, and in no hurry to finish. I can’t say that I always follow that at home, where I’m often more concerned with just getting something in my stomach after riding.

But trips like this are always a good reminder for me to practice slow food whenever I can.