A Fall. A Crash.
Dear Adventurous Reader,
Today’s post is not about adventure, but enduring difficult times. It is about a crash that Elijah and I had on our bikes, and how things are tough when they don’t seem to be going right.
It is 9:30 at night and I am sitting on my bike, attached to a trainer. It is cold, for a summer night, there is a slight breeze, a few stars are out against the darkening canvas sky. I am riding my trainer, I hate riding my trainer.
Sure, cycling trainers have a purpose; time trial practice, riding inside when it is snowing, intival specific workouts. But I am not riding my trainer because I am preparing for a race, I am riding my trainer because Elijah and I had a crash, my wrist is fractured and I need to ride because I have been sitting still for a long time.
So many things can go wrong; too many things can go wrong. In talks about cycling we haven’t discussed broken bones and how we will handle them, it is not something that we felt we should discuss - the only person to break bones riding a bike is Dad, the boys seem to be made of rubber.
It is not that we don’t want to be prepared for the potential of a crash, it is just not something we have considered up until now.
Ezekiel, Elijah and I were out riding the Rail Trail. Gravel track with a slight uphill gradient. I was assisting Elijah up a hill, his front wheel drifted below mine and we went down.
It wasn’t a “touching of wheels” like Phil and Paul would say, we weren’t fighting each other for position in a sprint - it was Elijah’s front wheel going under mine. I won’t forget that moment I realised that we would crash: trying to manage an unmanageable situation; the weightless feeling as I knew I could do nothing to stop it; the praying that I would not hurt Elijah as I fell. Going in slow motion and full speed at the same time.
Then the bang as my helmet hit the ground. Nothing hurt, in the moment of the crash, that would come later.
We came down hard. My bike was tangled in his, Elijah’s leg was under his bike. He started crying, and I shook off the crash, amazed that I was not knocked unconscious (last time I crashed I was out for at least two hours). I crawled over and checked him: legs fine with two knee’s of serious gravel rash.
Ezekiel rode back to us and told me that I fell on Elijah. We sat for a while, Elijah crying, his knees hurt, and they hurt even more when he looked at them and saw the blood. I checked to see if he could ride home (the pro’s always say “Get back on the bike and then find out how you are really feeling”), but he was not too keen about that, so we sent Ezekiel off to go get Jacqui and the car.
We ditched the bikes and I carried Elijah back to the road.
It has been five weeks since we crashed and it has been very difficult to stay motivated. I was just planning a full month of riding to work and fun rides with the family when the crash happened. In that time we have been building our bikes, organising where we will stay and talking more about it - so we have been wanting to ride. And, yet I cannot.
Jacqui has ridden some longer rides with the big boys, and I have driven the support vehicle - which I have to say is not fun, I miss riding. I miss the chance to unwind after a long day of work, to de-stress from the problems of the day. I miss the chance to push myself until my legs burn and I cannot ride fast anymore.
In the nights, when the little ones are asleep, I sit on the trainer, trying to find those feelings riding a bike brings me. I do not find those feelings riding my bike on a trainer. Like a mirage shimmering in the distance on a long desert road, inviting and a false hope.
Elijah recovered once his wounds were bandaged.
One thing we have learned with six children is that even the best laid plans can fall apart. My way around having our plans destroyed is to not make plans, that way I are not disappointed when they do not happen.
Of course not making plans is idealistic. We have plans, I had plans before the crash to be riding more. That is why I have been disappointed about the way things have gone in the past month. So, all I can do is keep turning the pedals, on my bike attached to the trainer. I keep on moving because in my mind I have kilometers of riding in Tasmania drifting on my mind.
Unexpected terrain. Unexpected weather. Unsure how out traveling children will go. So many unknowns, so it seems like the one thing I can do is get ready by riding - how ever I can do that.
The sky is darker now. More black, no clouds as the stars shone bright against the darkened sky. The half-moon sits just above the roof of the house and it is glowing a wonderful yellow in the clear night. Maybe this is not so bad after all.
Who am I kidding? Yes it is. Riding a trainer is torture.