Impatiently Building Momentum

It’s been four weeks since my accident and while things are moving very slowly in the recovery department, I think I may have had a bit of a psychological breakthrough a week ago after a tough first week back at work.

On March 26, I drove (yes, I drove!) up to Forestville with my friend, Chris, to meet up with some others for an evening of photography and stories from Scott Nydam of BMC Racing. 

I was a bit nervous meeting Scott, but the wine that I probably shouldn't have been drinking gave me courage to talk to him. It turns out that he's super nice and even asked how I was doing after my friend told him I'd recently suffered a brain injury. I’ve been following Scott’s racing career for a while and was heartbroken when it ended early due to repeated brain injuries. Last fall, Scott went to Rwanda to work with their national cycling team. He’s been sharing photos from his trip and the beauty of Rwanda frequently amazed me. Reading the stories of the riders, I was awestruck.  I'm now inspired by the work Scott is doing.

Fellow TBI survivor, Scott Nydam

Two things occurred to me during his presentation, the first of which is that in comparison to many others, my injuries are definitely on the mild side. However, each time I think about how lucky I am it scares me because this accident could have caused permanent damage (thanks again Giro!). Once I get back on the bike, I’ll be doing so with a great amount of trepidation, especially when it comes to descending because I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy and I certainly don’t want another similar injury.

The second thing is that in comparison to the lives of the guys on Team Rwanda, my life is easy peasy. These men have faced unimaginable horrors, and yet they continue to live their lives and follow their dreams. I feel that I have little right to complain and I should be doing more to help those who have real problems. Not that I’ll be going to Rwanda any time soon, but the thought has crossed my mind to find a local organization to work with. Perhaps I can find something regional for people with traumatic brain injuries…

However, my ability to help right now is extremely limited due to my injuries. As a teacher, each day I go into work hoping to make a difference for at least one student. And each day is a struggle trying to reach them. Now, due to my injuries, I feel that each day is a struggle for even basic communication, let alone inspiring a student to push his or herself a more.

I become agitated when I feel they don’t understand me and I question my clarity. I become even more agitated when I can’t understand them and I can sense that some of them are too (at least judging by an eyeroll I got when I had to ask a student three times to repeat what he said). If I can’t maintain patience with myself, how can I maintain it toward my students? The ability to stay calm and level headed in high stress situations has always been an enormous sense of pride with me. In fact, administrators have commended me for it. It kills me, daily, to know that I currently don’t possess that skill in the same manner as before.

Many people have reminded me to take my recovery day by day and I’ll get there, back to my old self. As a person that responds well to deadlines, I desperately want to know when that day will come and once again, it pisses me off not knowing. I’ve got things to do, people to help, and a world to change.

I Want My Normal Life Back

One becomes bored really fast when recovering from an injury. My feeling is that I’m ultra bored because I had to take the first week off work and I’ve now crawled at a glacial pace through my Spring Break.

I was overly excited about attending the Merco Cycling Classic in Merced the first weekend of the month. I was unable to contain myself as I drove into work on March 3 and passed two teams driving south and countless cars with beautiful bikes on racks. Unfortunately, my bad decision to not get off the bike and walk down that damn hill in San Francisco on Friday night ended my hopes of attending the race to cheer on Burke Swindlehurst in his first race as Bissell’s assistant director. (Seriously, I even wanted to chalk up the road for him. Burke, be prepared for the Tour of California, but I know you can’t read the road while driving so I’ll send you photos of my handy chalk work.)  My disappointment in missing the race is amplified by the fact that Bissell did very well and I missed one of my favorite domestic pros, Ben Jacques-Maynes, take the win.

March is when racing in Northern California gets into full swing. Sure, the Snelling Road Race (link is to my photos from this year's event) is a very well attended event in February, but Merco is when the fun really begins and top domestic riders attend. Nearly every weekend there are races. I held out hope that this weekend I’d feel up to driving east to Sonora to catch the Ward’s Ferry Road Race, which I’ve never been to before, but poor weather this last week and in particular on Friday put a swift and painful end to that hope. The race ended up being canceled due to snow on the course. Yes, I said snow. Can you imagine?

There is still hope that I’ll feel up to attending Warnerville tomorrow. We’ll see how the weather holds out and if I know anybody racing.

On top of the disappointment of not being able to photograph races I was looking forward to, I’ve found myself absolutely itching to ride and missing the bike. That’s another thing I’d planned to do a lot of over my break. Although weather most likely would have prevented me from riding much, being stuck inside has prevented me from seeing how yucky the weather actually is. At least when I know it’s raining because I have to be out in it, I come to terms with the fact that I can’t ride.

This is different though. It’s like telling a teenager that it’s absolutely forbidden they drink. It often only makes them want to do it more. Being told that it’s absolutely forbidden that I ride only makes me want to do it more. I can’t even use the excuse that I don’t have a bike because I have two mountain bikes staring at me right now. Mocking me. Pleased in the fact that they don’t have to face flat tires because I can’t ride them no matter how much I want to.

Ironically, one of the funniest pieces of advice I’ve gotten after my accident was from Garmin-Cervélo’s Jonathan Vaughters. He told me to drink. So there you have it, I’m encouraged to drink and forbidden to ride. Quite the opposite of my preference, really.

Not much to update on my condition except that my head wound isn’t quite healing properly due to a lost staple and therefore it still hurts. I got in to see a neurologist after taking twenty minutes to convince my primary care physician that I needed to see one. The neurologist was useful in helping me to understand what’s going with my brain because of the injury. Although, he wasn’t convinced that there was ever any bleeding on my brain despite the fact that the Chief of Neurology and his team of a babillion doctors in San Francisco said there was. Regardless, the questionable areas didn’t show up on my most recent CT scan so I’m more than thrilled with that news.

Physical therapy started yesterday. He didn’t seem helpful, but he gave me some exercises to do in order to retrain my brain to handle different positions. My favorite part was when he made me turn my head to the left and lay on my back. I very nearly fell off the table due to the intense vertigo, and after sitting up, I almost threw up on him. Certainly, I wouldn’t have been the first. I’m supposed to continue the torture at home for the next couple of weeks and return for a follow up.

Up next? Since I can’t ride my bike, I might as well listen to a person who does ride a bike (and a fellow traumatic brain injury survivor) tell stories about people who are living the dream. Former pro, Scott Nydam of BMC (still works for the team) is giving a presentation about his time last fall working with Team Rwanda. As a photographer and cycling nut, I’m looking forward to seeing his photography and hearing his tales while at the same time supporting a team with such amazing and inspiring stories.

In the meantime, I've joined Raisin Hope Foundation in order to connect with others who have more experience in regards to what I should except as I recover.  Granted my injuries aren't nearly as traumatic as most of theirs because I was very lucky, but it still helps to have people tell me that what I'm going through is to be expected.  There is so much about the recovery process that doctors just don't tell you and I've felt lost in knowing what's "normal" and what I should be worried about.  I just want to get back to my own normal routine and it helps to have people to lean on for support (sometimes literally because I have a nasty case of vertigo).

I've also started shopping online for new bikes.  I'm not optimistic about the condition of my Trek 1.5 and I'm using this as a time for a possible upgrade (it'll cost me almost as much as it's worth to fix it if it can be fixed).  I'm currently eyeing the Cervélo RS, Pinarello FPQuattro or more realistically the Pinarello FP3.  I'm also planning on checking out Orbea and Specialized.  Sorry, Sean, BMC is way out of my price range unless I win the lottery.  If anybody has any input, please let me know.

My Life Has Changed

My cat really hates my mom. She’s normally very skittish anyhow, but she will hide and not come out if my mom is here. This isn’t usually a problem since my parents live two hours away, but my mom has been staying with me for the last week so my poor kitty has been living under my bed since then except for at night when she ventures out to sleep with me.

Obviously, this isn’t an ideal situation, but it’s the only way that doctors agreed to release me from the hospital last Sunday. On March 4, I crashed by bike. This wasn’t a silly little rookie crash because my cleats were jammed up and I couldn’t unclip. This was a scary high-speed crash while descending a hill.

My friend, Chris, and I decided to ride the San Francisco Bike Party, which is a night ride in, well, San Francisco. Sounded like a good idea at the time. I had a bad feeling once we got out on the road. There seemed to be many inexperienced cyclists with varying degrees of sobriety riding parallel to MUNI tracks. Within the first couple of miles, I think I witnessed three crashes because of those tracks.

For safety reasons, we decided to try to stay up front. I felt great on the first little climb, but I had to drop back because I didn’t know where I was going. Eventually, the road pitched up to be pretty steep and then I dropped my chain. After fixing my chain, I caught up to my friend and remember starting a descent but the next thing I can recall was being in an ambulance and later coming to in a CT scan machine.

Apparently, while I was descending at about 25 mph, another cyclist pulled out in front of me. I hit her and we both went down. She hit the lottery with minor scrapes compared to my traumatic brain injury.

I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t one of the scariest moments of my life. At one point before I had a sense of what had happened, I remember talking to doctors in the hospital and reaching back to scratch my head or something. My hair felt wet and when I looked at my hand, it was covered in blood. Since blood doesn’t really freak me out, I stayed calm, but I was definitely feeling the pain.

It turns out that I had a severe concussion and two CT scans told the doctors that I had minor bleeding on my brain, if you could call an injury like that minor. Two X-rays confirmed that I have no broken bones. I don’t even have any road rash, just a lot of bruising. You can now officially place my name in the “Lucky” column because my Giro Ionos saved my life, or at the very least, prevented me from having any serious permanent damage.

What has surprised me that most is the amount of support I’ve gotten from the cycling community. I tweeted from the emergency room once I became lucid. I have no memory of what I said, but I suddenly had a lot of replies and well wishes. I even received some from a few pros and ex-pros (one of which DM’ed me and seemed a bit disturbed by the photos of my helmet I posted) and one charity offered to replace my t-shirt that had to be cut off me by paramedics. Of course, I declined to accept that offer, but I was touched anyhow.

Now, a week after being released from the hospital (and missing Merco… sorry guys!), I’m relatively comfortable at home and recovering. I have some appointments tomorrow and I start physical therapy on Friday because the neurologist said I need to retrain my brain not to spin out of control when I turn my head. Already the dizziness is improving and the constant headache isn’t as severe, but I can feel this will be quite a long recovery that is forcing me to rethink my goals for this year and the possibility of racing next year.

The distances of a couple of charity rides and training for racing are very insignificant when I consider what could have happened. I really do feel like a lucky duck and I’m thrilled to be surrounded by supportive friends and an amazing cycling community.

I would especially like to thank Chris Griffin for staying with me in the hospital in San Francisco then visiting me on Sunday in Modesto.  She also made sure my baby, although possibly damaged beyond repair, made it home safely. 

Another thanks to Saul Raisin for just general support and encouragement... you've gone above and beyond what anybody would expect in this situation.
 

I really prefer that red stuff to stay inside my head, thanks...

My carbon fiber seatpost is definitely toast.

 
More photos can be seen here.

Pedal Dexterity

Sub titled: Monkey Toes
Sub sub titled: Dwight Schrute and Jens Voigt Have Nothing on Me!

Riding with Chris is always a fun experience because at some point we usually end up in a fit of giggles. Christmas Eve was no exception.

Chris and I decided to head out to the Knight’s Ferry area to ride to Robert’s Ferry and back. It was going to be about 30-miles of rolling hills and little traffic. My drive to our meeting place worried me because the valley appeared to be covered in the dense tule fog that so often plagues this area. To my surprise and pleasure, the fog started to clear before I arrived in Knight’s Ferry and shortly after we began riding, the fog lifted completely. It was turning out to be a gorgeous day for a ride with perfect weather and fun company.

Due to a lack of riding (not to mention a lack of hill training), Chris and I tired quickly. I can’t speak for her, but eventually I warmed up and was feeling better. Of course, we stopped occasionally to take photos of the landscape, converse with cows, and strip off our various layers because of the surprisingly warm weather.

We eventually decided on a turn around point and made a brief stop to take some more photos. With a momentary lapse of judgment (hello? Rain + dirt = mud), I stepped off the road to get a better angle for my shot. Once I stepped back onto the road, I realized my mistake. The result: Mud in the cleats. I cleaned them out a bit before getting back on the bike and didn’t give it further thought until a while later when I decided to stop again. I was unable to unclip from the left side.

Herein lies the problem – despite being right handed, I always unclip from the left and put that foot down. I’ve had more than one cyclist comment on this so apparently the majority of people do it the other way around. With no other choice, I unclipped from the right and slowed down while repeating in my head Go right, go right. Unfortunately, my body didn’t listen. The moment I realized I was going to fall I thought Don’t put your hand down, it’s not that far. Better to fall to the left and not land on my derailleur and break a bone on my left than the right, correct? This time my body listened. Once on the ground I was able to pull my cleat from the pedal and get up with only damaged pride.

Now what? Like any normal cyclist with another 10 miles to ride, I checked my pedals, checked my cleats, and then got back on the bike. Silly me.

When I realized that I was unable to unclip from either side, Chris and I started to derive a plan so I could stop safely. We decided that the best bet would be for me to remove my foot from my shoe so I started to play with them to see if I could undo the shoe while riding. This proved to be more difficult than I originally imagined.

On to Plan B. Chris ended up riding ahead of me so she could catch me when I stopped. While she held onto me, I was able to remove my feet from the shoes. Once I was safely off the bike, but not out of danger due to an unusual number of bees, it was time to figure out how I’d ride the remaining 8 or so miles. Eventually, we decided that forcing my shoes off my pedals (it took the two of us putting a good amount of force on them) and riding back with no shoes would be the only option, regardless of how stupid I’d look or unsafe it’d be.

So that’s what I did. I curled my toes around the small surface of the pedals like a monkey and continued to ride in significant discomfort unable to get out of the saddle to pedal. I walked up hills, rode the flats, and coasted downhill. Not exactly the perfect ending to the ride.

It's as uncomfortable as it looks.  Photo by Chris.

A slight feeling of horror washes over me when I realize that this could have been any of my rides when I’m normally alone. What then? Surely, I’m not the only cyclist who has quite literally been unable to unclip from the pedals.  If it wasn't for Chris being there, I pretty much would have been out of luck.

Needless to say, this is one reason I always wear a helmet.

Bunny Goes "Bang!"

On numerous occasions, I’ve heard the saying, “There are two kinds of cyclists in this world: those who have crashed and those who will.” Since I started riding a road bike just over a year ago, I’ve prided myself in belonging to the second group. I chalked it up to riding defensively, quick reaction time, and moderate bike handling skills.

This isn’t to say I’ve never crashed a bike. When I was nine, I had an accident on an old 1973 Schwinn Varsity that would make Jens Voigt cringe and I have crashed my mountain bike out of pure stupidity. However, up until this morning, I’d never crashed my shiny new Trek.

Yes, that’s right… today I switched teams.

I’m not 100% sure how it all happened, but I was turning around on the bike trail and somehow lost my balance. There was no pedaling involved, I wasn’t hammering down, or even going at a high speed. Before I knew it, I fell to the right and was unable to clip out in time to put my foot down. It might have been the impact on the ground, again, I’m not certain, but when I picked myself up off the ground, I looked down and saw this:

Now, I’m clearly not a professional, or really all that experienced, but I’m pretty sure the cleat isn’t supposed to break off like that.

I rode the 8 km back to my car without being able to clip in and drove promptly to the LBS where they confirmed that the cleat shouldn’t snap off. They then told me that my cleats and shoes show more than the average wear and tear considering they have less than 1,000 km of use. Oh, and speaking of which, my shiny “new” Sidis are slightly damaged from the crash, with a small tear on the back of one of the shoes. Apparently, I’m destined to go through cleats and shoes at only a slightly slower pace than the rate at which I go through gloves.

As for the rest of me, I’m pretty sure I’m okay. There is only minor pain in my right thumb and my knee has a very small spot of “road rash” (a term I’m using lightly here) and a swollen bump. A few hours after the accident, I did start to experience some pain similar to that of having whiplash after a car accident, for which I promptly took a painkiller. Overall, I’m fine.

Tomorrow may be a different story.