Sometimes You Fall Off The Horse

Winter 2015/2016 in Northwest Indiana was off to a great start.  The weather had been mild throughout the months of November and December, with temperatures hovering mostly in the 30 to 40 degree range. There had only been one small snowfall, and only a handful of days with temperatures in the 20’s. I had ridden 9,733 miles since January, and I was looking forward to another 10,000 mile year. It seemed that this would be an easy feat, with the weather’s cooperation.

Winter riding is so much different than summer riding. The winter layers, boots, winter helmet, ski goggles, and thick gloves mean I have to transition to the fat bike or MTB, even when there is no snow. It is difficult to maneuver the gears on a road bike with winter gloves on, and I need to be in a more upright position to see out of the goggles and winter helmet. Also, the roads can be covered in frost, which can be precarious on a road bike. And finally, most riding is in the dark because of the short days.

In some ways, winter riding is like being transported back in time to being 10 years old. There’s no road bike pressure to maintain a high average speed, and no pressure to nab a Queen of the Mountain. It’s an adventure that reminds me of childhood days when I played outside with my friends until my feet were frozen, and I was sad to hear my mom calling me to come home for supper. Back then, my playground was the park down the street. Now, my winter playground is Lake Michigan. In the winter, the sand at the National Lakeshore becomes hard packed and frozen, and there are few tourists on the beach. Dodging the waves along the shore is amazing fun, but moving the fat tires through the sand is also an incredible workout.

Our local riding group, which calls itself “Rollaphati”, spent several weekends on the beach in the month of December.

December 6th was our friend Eric’s 57th birthday. Eric wanted to ride 57 miles to celebrate one mile for every year he has been on the earth. We rode from Kemil Beach to the pavilion at the state park along the lakeshore, but it was slow going. It was unseasonably warm, and there were dozens of tourists along the beach. The sand wasn’t frozen, and it was kicked up from all the foot traffic. Eric popped wheelies as we made our way to the pavilion, where we met the rest of the group who had taken a detour through the woods. After we made it to the pavilion, we headed north to hook back up with the Calumet Trail.

At one point we found ourselves at a dead end on a road that had been closed and barricaded by a tall barbed wire fence. In true male fashion, all the guys insisted that we haul our bikes over the fence and climb it, rather than turn around and find a different route. Climbing the fence was a bit dramatic when I got stuck and had to get a ride on James’ back to get over the fence. Eric ended up ripping his new winter tights.

Because winter had been so mild and there had been no snow, I had been alternating rides between the fat bike and the MTB. On December 19th, Jeff, James, Marc and I met up to ride at Imagination Glen, a local park with 10 miles of MTB trails. It was beautiful and sunny, but temperatures had dropped to the 20’s. I had never been to the Glen before, and I found a series of dirt ramps that reminded me of the ramp I used to jump at the bottom of Linden Hill on my banana seat bike when I was a kid . Linden Street was around the corner from my childhood home. This was a dead end street that descended into an open field where the neighborhood kids built a dirt bike ramp that was crazy fun. I still like to tell the story of how when I was 10 I thought flying over the ramp with no hands was a good idea!

December 20th was about 20 degrees warmer than the previous day, and Marc and I headed north to meet up with Jeff, Greg, Shari, Eric, and Mike to take a ride along the bike trail that runs from Chesterton to Munster. It was sunny outside and the entire group was in a very good mood. We were riding at a nice social pace, about 16 mph, as we headed onto the trail. This bike trail has fences at each road crossing, and there is a lot of starting and stopping. As the trail crossed Samuelson Road in Portage, there was the usual fence that we had to slow down and go around. We went around the fence, checked for traffic, then went straight ahead to get back to the trail. On the other side of the street there wasn’t the usual fence blocking the trail, but rather three concrete, short poles. I saw the yellow pole on the right where there was a walker on the trail, and I saw the pole to the left. However, I didn’t see the yellow pole in the center until it was too late because its view was blocked by the riders in front of me. I hit the pole at a very slow pace, maybe 5 mph, and it was a fall that I thought I would just get up from and brush myself off. As I went down I remember thinking “Well that was stupid of me”. What should have been a minor fall, however, turned out to have major consequences. Before I landed I saw my right arm snap about 5 inches from my shoulder. As it snapped, it hung loosely like a fake arm, then bent backwards behind my back. For a split second, I thought my arm had been severed. Jeff said he saw my arm get wedged between the pole and the handlebars, and it stayed behind as my body flipped forward.

My immediate reaction was to grab my arm and pull it in front of me as I yelled that someone should call 911. I heard Greg say “Call 911?” because he hadn’t seen what had happened and he thought it was a minor spill. A passerby stopped and gave me a blanket as I sat on the concrete for what seemed like hours until the ambulance came. The EMTs in the ambulance were two very young men and they seemed scared to handle me. One of them kept apologizing for having to cut off my shirt, and they both seemed extremely nervous about hurting me when they tried to immobilize my arm with a blow up splint. While they continued to apologize for hurting me, I told them I was sorry for crying.

Xrays taken at the hospital showed that my right humerus had a spiral fracture and had been shattered into what looked like three pieces. Surgery, however, was not to be scheduled until Wednesday! I spent the next three days in terrible pain. I threw up until midnight the first night home, and I could hear my bones grating against each other every time I moved.

To my surprise, I was not the least bit nervous about surgery.  By the time 6 AM December 23rd came, I was more than ready to have my arm fixed.  We were the first to arrive at the surgery center, and I waited only about 5 minutes before they took me back to get me prepped for surgery.  I changed into a gown, got hooked up to an IV, and then the anesthesiologist came into to talk to me and give me a block which would completely numb my arm.  A few minutes later, the surgeon came in to ask me how I was doing.  Then, what seemed like seconds later, the surgeon told me I had done well and was done.  Because of the nerve block I would have no pain for the next 6-12 hours.  I remember thinking, “Well that was easy!”  I had originally thought I would need 3 or 4 screws to bolt my arm back together, however it ended up taking 14 screws and a titanium plate.

After surgery, Marc took me to the pharmacy to get a stronger pain medication than was given to me at ER so I would have it when the nerve block wore off. The pharmacy wouldn’t fill the prescription because of narcotics laws, because I had already gotten a narcotic a few days earlier.  Marc said they would fill it Monday.  I wasn’t in terrible pain and I still had the ER prescription, so I wasn’t worried.  By 10:00 PM the nerve block had worn off.  I took a pill from the ER and nothing happened.  Then I took some Ibuprofen because I was afraid to take another pain pill.  By 12:00 I was hysterical.  I was pacing the floor and crying, and cursing the drug addicts for causing the stiff narcotics laws that were preventing me from getting pain medication! It was a rough night.  The next week was a complete blur of almost constant sleeping interspersed with pain.

Now, at day 11 since surgery, I feel almost back to normal.  When my staples come out, hopefully this week, the doctor has given me the OK to sweat and do the bike trainer.  I hadn’t intended to do a blog entry about my accident, but the forced down time has given me a lot of time to think about and process what happened.  Initially, I was so worried about the consequences of such a minor fall that I wondered if I should stop riding.  Then I realized if I stopped riding I would stop living.  After all, getting in my car and driving to work each day is a huge risk, as is walking to the mailbox on an icy day.  Every day that I get to ride is a blessing, and I hope I have many more riding days.