Kurgan Gringioni said:Did you break it in a Masters Fattie race? If so, my heart bleeds for
you.
Don't bleed for me, I don't deserve it.
I'd been doing p/1/2 races for last couple of months and my fitness is/was
decent, but I signed up for the fattie race at Mt. Hood along with some
teammates.
Stage 1 was an unremarkable 55-mile affair in the rain. Stage 2 was a 10.5
mile tt and I did a mediocre ride. I felt great in the stage 3 technical
crit and was active at and off the front. Then I crashed on the sharp
off-camber 150-degree turn because my rear tire (clincher) blew out. Not
sure why that happened but it was instantaneous and I was sliding.
Fortunately I was a bit OTF so nobody hit me, but it was embarrassing. Only
body damage was road rash so I took my freebie and was thrown back in with
about 7 to go. I led out two NorCal friends and ended up 4th myself. A trip
to the Rite-Aid that night for some tagaderm and I felt good to go. BTW,
Dotsie (Cowden) Baush crashed on the same corner while leading the pro
women's race it she broke her clavicle I think.
Anyway, the final stage was a 75 mile hilly road race in the cold rain. On
the first uphill I quickly knew I was going to suck, and by the top I was
dropped by the front 10-15 guys. The downhill was wet and mossy and I could
barely see them up there through my gritty, fogged-up glasses but for some
reason I thought it would be a good idea to take risks and fly down the hill
to catch back on. Normally I'm a good descender and have made significant
time on techincal downhills in lots of races. This was not one of those
times. I never got into the "zone" and I was blowing it on lots of corners.
Then there was a sequence of gradual S-turns where the bends in the road
were maybe 30 degrees and I flew through them like a slalom ski racer back
in the zone... until the last bend wasn't 30 degrees but more like 130. As
soon as I saw this speed-and-geometry conundrum I knew I was toast, but
instead of just laying it down on my already-road-rashed right side, I rode
off of the pavement at speed and my front wheel grabbed into the soft mud
and I flipped over and landed shoulder-and-back on the only boulder around.
My right clavicle went snap-crackle-pop. Had I been a meter to either side,
I would have simply plopped into pudding-consistency mud with a nice
frosting of pine needles. As it was I got up, attempted to remount my bike
and immediately dropped back to the ground in a new world of pain. For the
next few minutes guys would ride by and yell out "are you alright???" to
which I would respond "uhh... no", but they would continue on. But hey, what
are they going to do anyway??
Finally a follow vehicle appears, I fall into the back seat, leaving my bike
by the side of the road, and begin my odyssey into the Hood River medical
world. The first attention was from a spectator who happened to be an ER
doc, and she duct taped the skin down so the bone wouldn't poke through,
which it was about to do. Generously, she drove me to the ER where the care
was excellent and compassionate, and after three hours I departed there with
xrays showing a complete break out toward my right shoulder with the bone
ends overlapping by about an inch and a couple of sharp shards shooting off
orthogonally. My friends transport me to Portland, my wife flies up and then
drives me the precisely 1,000 miles back home. And tomorrow at noon I go
under the knife to repair the break with a metal plate. It better be
titanium!
The worst part is that this ordeal is 100% my fault, and the result of very
stupid reasoning. I mean, what if I hadn't crashed and had caught back on? I
would have been dropped again on the next mountain, guaranteed. I actually
thought about that before starting the dare-devil descent and did it anyway.
What a moron!
Be careful out there!
Mark