Better Late Than Never - Monster Cross Report

Lots of catching up to do. I'll regale you with pictures and narratives about my recent 2week stint of playing so-faux-pro in Mallorca but first I have to cover Monster Cross. Yeah - me - doing a cross race - like, an "epic" one. Yeah, I just said "epic". Because, for me, it kinda was.

I had been on my CX bike quite a few times, even a couple times in the gravel. It made perfect sense that I should do a 50 mile CX race, right? As the day loomed closer I figured eh, I'll survive. The day before I thought - huh - maybe I shoulda spent some more time on the bike off-road. The morning of I thought- what the hell was I thinking?!!?

Lets make one thing clear - while there were several hundred riders "competing", I was riding the event, not racing. So the race was...well, not so much a race but a 4+ hour ride that pretty much encompassed every emotion along with a plethora of random thoughts. I'm certain I resolved world peace around mile 27 but lost the train of thought shortly thereafter when I remembered that I had a cliff bar in my pocket.

Its a mass start unless you're racing the elites, like Christine initially told me I was, which put me in a panic seeing as I've ridden my cx off road all of 3 times -ever. To my relief, I had correctly registered for the open, which put me back with the mass start. 

It was a bit chaotic getting everyone through the tight staging area but Christine, Lauren (ncvc) and I managed to stay near the back to avoid most of it. 

I kid you not, within 10 mins of the start this happened: still bunched up, two lines that were rideable. I'm in the left one chatting with Lauren, Christine is right behind. Everyone is just going with the flow until the road opens up, which is where natural separation occurs and groups form according to riding ability. Some girl decides to pass me on the left (in the gutter, where all the gravel and tree branches are) just as we were passing a spot where a tree had gone down. I hear 'on your left'. What left? There IS no left. In the split second I had to think that thought, my bike suddenly stopped and I slid out. 

The stupid girl had kicked up the debris in the gutter and threw a branch into my wheel. I came up cursing like a sailor and trying to get out of the road. She was trying to pre-emptively defend herself as Lauren and Christine were yelling at her - her excuse? "I said on your left". I told her in no uncertain terms what I thought and where to go -and to make sure I didn't catch her - as I picked myself off the ground. 

I got on the bike as quick as I could and got some frustration out. I stuck with Lauren for a while (mostly while I was pedaling out of anger) but my lack of confidence hindered me. Then I stuck with Christine for a bit and let go of that group when we hit a huge mud-pit. I got off the bike to see if I could adjust my brakes and realized I couldn't put any weight on my right knee - when I wiped out, my top tube landed just right on the knee. I had blood dripping down my right leg and my kit was all dirty. Fabulous. Christine offered the parking lot we had just passed through but I was not ready to give in - I said no, I can pedal. Actually, I'm fairly certain I probably snarled that (sorry, Christine) as I was so angry to have been injured AGAIN on the bike and AGAIN not my fault. 

Shortly thereafter I got off the bike again to try to figure out the brakes and let go of that group.Then I got over myself and turned on my iPod. I'm certain I was mumbling to myself (only out loud) working my way around turns and through the mud. The first creek crossing caught me off guard. I slammed on the brakes and got off the path, wondering what to do... Walk through? Turn back? Sit down and cry? 

Walking wasn't an option since I was injured in the fall. Turning back was like accepting failure. I had already cried so that would be redundant. A few others offered encouragement and advice as they flew through the creek. I watched a few others go through and finally ponied up. I backed up to get a running start and ... It wasn't pretty but I made it. Funny thing about creeks, they are at water level so when you come out of it, it's a kicker of a hill. And it was already torn up and muddy from other riders. And I was having a hard time pushing with my right leg so, yeah, that was terrifying fun. 

I knew there was one creek crossing- the real surprise was that there were 4 - count them - 4 creek crossings. Which I mostly discovered after flying downhill into a turn and suddenly - screech - another creek!! I proceeded along, gaining confidence (though it took me to the 4th and final creek crossing not to hesitate - I rolled through that last one like a ...well, in total fear but I did it). I had the thought around mile 30 that maybe I should have at least experienced a mud-ride or a creek-crossing before this. Maybe?

 

I made some -we're in this together -friends, exchanging random comments and twice getting directions as I was about to go the wrong way. Anyone who's ever ridden with me will know that I have never claimed to be anything but directionally challenged. 

In the end it was 4:16 or so in the saddle. I came across the finish line (read: mud pit) and the boy expressed immense surprise that I finished and a lot sooner than he thought. Sigh. I'm constantly underestimated. I couldn't walk when I got off the bike - a sprained adductor was the general consenus along with the bruised knee. Fun. 

I cleaned up the superficial damage and the knee eventually healed. Picture it this way: I was toddering like an old lady with balance issue. But, there was no way this injury - less than 10 days out from departure to beautiful Mallorca - was going to keep me down (see my next post about Zurich, the city of stairs).  

All in all, I'm kinda proud of myself for toughing it out and not being dead last (I think 12th out of 28 registered?). It'll be a while before I can honestly say I'd do it again (but between you and me, I think I might).

TGINM - 2.4.14

That's Thank God It's Not Monday. Somehow, just about everyone I know had a sh*t day yesterday. Today is better, but the bar is not high over here so I'm not sure that's saying much.

This past Saturday marked 6-weeks post face-plant. Time flies when you're having this much fun - and I actually HAVE been having fun despite the weather. No offense to those able-bodied racer-types but this crap weather has EVERYONE relegated inside so I didn't have to endure the facebook postings or the twitterings of fantastic monster-miles every weekend. Sorry, misery loves company.

As mentioned in the prior post, my initial Ortho appointment was less than satisfactory so I followed up with another Bone-Doc who came highly recommended by a coworker. Her son apparently did a Superman off the bed when he was 2 or 3 and sustained a collarbone break. He's an overachiever- I didn't break my first bone until I was in my late 20s. Anyway, Dr. Thompson was great. I went in 10 days post accident. His first statement (not a question, but a statement) was : Bike Crash. He continued with another - statement, not a question - "you're on the bike already". I shed a tiny, unnoticeable tear as I said "I feel like you KNOW me!". His response - "I'm kinda surprised you're not on the road already" - settled it. This was the right Ortho for me!

Interesting outcome from the new round of X-rays - the plate DID crack from the impact. There are 4 screws in the plate and the plate broke at the one nearest the point of impact. So yeah, I kinda hit the deck.

I was out on the road - on my CX bike for the wider, more cush ride - the following weekend. One week off the bike (mostly on drugs or sleeping or sleeping on drugs), one week on the trainer and there I was, back in action. Kinda. I wasn't fast and I found that the motion of dismounting - say, at a stoplight- was painful. As long as I was pedaling, though, I was happy. Stupid happy, really.

In the meanwhile, I've been able to do trainer workouts and some other functional stuff - no bench-presses or chin-ups yet but I'll get there. Actually, maybe not the chin-ups. I've only managed to do a few of those in my lifetime.

Speaking of me  - the Month of Wendy was officially a success despite my best attempt to put a damper on the occasion. I was lucky to be able to spend time with friends, be it on the bike, dinner, a quick visit or to share a cup of coffee. I also had to part ways with an old friend - my beloved X3. She took me all over the country and back often lugging friends and family, most times with multiple bikes and bags. She was still looking great after 10 years and over 180k miles but she finally objected vehemently to the deep freeze that started early January. The repairs would cost more than was economical so ... it was hard to let her go but we had many good years and miles. I like to think she either got fixed up and is already sharing miles with a nice family or she's gone to that great highway with no speed limits in the sky.

I shopped around a bit to compare cars and maintenance ratings and longevity etc etc and ... I went to BMW of Alexandria and test drove the 2014 X3 and I realized that I couldn't match that "feeling" in any other vehicle. I didn't like the white or black, the red was DEFINITELY not for me (I have a heavy foot and screaming out to the law enforcement that I'm coming is not in my best interest), the sky blue is very much not me, the space-grey wasn't that beautiful gun-metal grey that Audi sports, bronze was out of the question. So .... blue it is. It's pretty much my old car, updated 10 years. And my how things have changed! I didn't even get the super-duper version but it's taken me a month to get used to things like - not having to put a key in the ignition and how to get my wipers in the correct position in the event of snow/ice on the way (it's like a secret handshake).

2004 X3

2014 X3

By sheer coincidence, the car was delivered on my actual birthday. Since then, it's been clean all of 5 days. Seriously. This weekend I was having some consternation finding a local "good" car wash - fully knowing that everyone was going to be washing cars after the past week. I didn't want my shiny new car to get all scratched up with someone else's salt left in the brushes or whatever. I was asking everyone around - I used to go to a great spot in Canton (Baltimore) - I had a monthly membership and would get my car washed at least twice a month. I have not found that kind of place down here. Anyway, after sweating it Friday and most of the day Saturday, I realized - wait - I have a driveway. And a hose. I CAN WASH MY OWN CAR!!!

Fun fact - don't wash your car with dish soap. It is so effective that it takes the wax off your paint job. Glad I read that before I started the process. Anyway, the boy and I proceeded to wash both cars Saturday afternoon - how novel, right? Funny that washing a car in your driveway was the way of the world most of my life and yet it wasn't even on the radar after "city" living for a few years.

The bad news is that it's almost a given that when I wash my car, it will rain, sleet, ice and snow.  You're welcome.

Recovery Ramblings 1.5.14

Back in action

While I never wish for bad weather or bad roads, I'll admit that a tiny part of me is feeling better about being relegated indoors for training this weekend. I was back on the bike, on the trainer, as of last Saturday. Now, some may say too soon. And I get that, I really do. A good friend and teammate put it rather succinctly - "We all want to say ... take time to heal. We all know ... we would do the same thing!". I am being gentle with my shoulder but hey, my legs aren't broken!

 The confirmed break in the collarbone is less than severe - I wish I had a copy of the x-ray to prove my point. The plate (from 2003 or 2004) held nicely, which is a great thing because, if it had been compromised, surgery would be the only option. The tiny piece of bone between the plate and the shoulder broke. I couldn't tell if it was a complete break or a bad fracture. The ortho was the only one that could get me in on short notice during the holiday week but he wasn't a sports guy nor did he really have any good advice other than a timeframe to gradually get on the bike in 6-8 weeks. Suffice it to say, my follow up appointment is with a different ortho who IS a sports guy and comes highly recommended. 

The stitches above my eye were a whole 'nother debacle. I went to my primary Doc on Thursday (after Christmas) to get them removed because I couldn't get a plastics doc to take me within the allotted time frame. I'm told that leaving the stitches in too long gives you a less-than-desirable criss-cross scar. I will definitely have a scar (I'm channeling Tommy Boy:"Son of a ...That's gonna leave a mark"), but I didn't want to make it worse than it had to be. My "primary" is the one I had to list for my health insurance company. I studiously browsed the accepted doctors and selected one based on very stringent factors: her office is near my home and she shared my first name. Come on, aren't all Wendys as cool as me? Apparently not. 

She started the visit by chastising me for not knowing how many stitches I had (sorry, IF they told me a number I was kinda in shock at the time. They could have said "gummy bears" for all I know). Mmm... gummy bears. She also attacked my method of caring for my wounds by saying that the (pardon the visual) ooze that was coming from the wounds was an infection, likely a staph infection and I could die from it. Bedside manner, anyone? 

I do recall the ER seamstress saying that the stitches would be BLUE. So they could easily be seen. I helpfully mentioned that to the primary but she was not impressed with my assistance. She proceeded to yank and pull on whatever she could grab, which included skin and eyebrow. I expected the momentary pain but I was truly afraid she was ripping open the wound. She finally finished and started to walk out when I stopped her. Motioning to my face, which was still pretty banged up, I asked if she had any advice on healing/scar prevention. She tersely shook her head and walked out with a parting comment that was something to effect of  "You're going to have some marks". Thanks, Dr. Obvious. 

On Friday evening, I was cleaning my wounds and noticed a blue string. I pulled it with the tweezers and it came out - a remnant of one of the ones she clipped, no doubt. Ok, shoddy work but ok. Then I saw a blue string that was going against the normal eyebrow direction. I started to yank on it and ... Son of a ... are you kidding me? She missed a stitch. IT WAS BLUE. She was all up in my face and missed a BLUE stitch in my (sparse from the crash) brown eyebrow. I spent my day Saturday going back to the fantastic ER in Loudoun County and had them take out the stitch. They also informed me that the wounds were healing nicely and no, that wasn't staph and I probably wasn't going to die from it. Seriously. Where does one lodge a complaint for poor Doctor service?

One nice side effect of this drama is that I've had the chance to visit with friends off the bike (how novel!).  Please, lets do this more often, sans injury! Thank you to everyone who reached out, sent advice, shared a cup or two of coffee and brought required medical assistance (e.g.: wine, chocolate, bananas - for sustenance, scar cream, nail polish and a fabulously lux blanket). Favorite comment on my last blog goes to Brian ... made me laugh ... because I'm sure the EMTs weren't sure what to do with that and because even though I don't remember it, I know it is SO me and I'm sure it made you guys laugh.  

Anyhoo, as requested (for you, Ycycle!) I'm posting a couple of pics of my helmet and one of my bike. It was hard to get the helmet damage to really show on photo, but I did my best. I'm also adding a pic that one of my teammates took at the scene - it's graphic but it made me laugh at the same time. Facial wounds bleed like a stuck pig so I imagine that's where my head landed. 

I stopped momentum with my head and face. Note the blood stains on the strap.

I don't think photos can do it justice. The top left circle is
what I think caused the gash above my eye - I would have
assumed it was my Oakleys but they survived unscathed. 

My teammates knew I'd want to know how my bike survived.
Photo Credit: Michael Stearns

I know, somewhat morbid but it made me
laugh. Photo Credit: Tods Manggon