So, I’m screaming along University Blvd. in Denver, thinking, “my wife will kill me if I’m late for Passover dinner,” when I spot what I initially think is a very narrow driveway. By the time I realize that it is a rain culvert, I’m already down to one option. “MUSTBUNNYHOP!!” I didn’t make it.
There was a split second when I thought “hey, I just might make it,” then the sharp, sickening pain in which everything I see is white, and everything I say if profane.
While clutching my shoulder and swearing, I check my bike. Have to retrue the front wheel. Crap, I think, I’m gonna be late, now. Nothing bleeding, better get going.
By the time my wife sees the shoulder, it’s beginning to turn a faint yellow-green. A bruise. That is to be expected, I think. Meanwhile, my wife’s family points out that this night would not be the first time someone had to be taken to the ER for Passover Seder. I’m thinking, “okay, it hurts, but I can move it around. It might be jammed, but in a few days, it will be fine.”
The next day, purpleness begins to come through in the space between my collar bone and my trap muscle. Still, I think nothing of it.My wife, always the careful, practical and medically educated one extracts from me a promise to see our sports doctor back home. Better to be safe rather than risk losing the whole summer riding season.
I was still surprised and disappointed when the doctor and his assistant walked in after looking at my x-rays, sling in hand.
“You broke it.”
“Oh yeah. In two places”
The doc shows me the unmistakable spikes and shadows on the image showing just what kind of damage I had done. One looked like it had been peeled up off of the bone. The other was a faint, gentle wave.
The swelling and that I still have a little of the mass from my former life as a bodybuilder saved me from much more pain. Still, I would not suggest this as a way to pass time. I now have a nice black sling.As you already know, black goes with everything.
I find I can still ride the stationary trainer, but I won’t get to do much upper body work. I won’t get to do the CrossFit classes that helped maintain the muscle that saved me from more server damage. I’ll just have to focus on my legs. I’ll still be able to Ride the Rockies, as well as riding the Courage Classic. Those are both in summer. I’ll just do it with a different mind set.
I wrote about pulling out of the Boulder-Roubaix to avoid this exact injury. I crashed inspire of the decision. I was focused on the broken collar bone, and that’s what I got. I spent money last September on a positive self-talk seminar, then forgot everything CrossFit hero Greg Amundson tried to teach. He even sited a story very close to my own. An Army Ranger he trained with said to himself, “Watch, I’ll be the guy who breaks his ankle on this course.” Sure ‘nough.
I know better. I have to watch what I think and how I think. Positive thoughts tend to bring positive results. With that in mind, I’m going to do everything my doctor tells me, exactly the way he describes it. I will be ready to rock by the Duck Race. That will give me five, happy, warm weeks to train long riding before the Ride the Rockies. Watch. It’ll happen.
Meanwhile, have fun, be safe. I’m going healing, and riding my trainer.