Snap, Crackle, Crash

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Everything was going super duper!
 
Summer was busy but managable. I finally seemed to find a good balance of working, playing and training. I was working hard (30 + hour/week). I was training hard  (20+ hour/week). I was finally running like a runner (40+ miles/week).  I was doing injury preventative pre-hab (Thanks to Sean Ryan and Positive Energy Physical Therapy's running gait analysis test. I was kicking butt on 5am routine beastly old man rides with my dad. I was ready to dominate the local 2 mile swim Peir 2 Peir race [Aug 3] as well as USLA Lifeguard Nationals on the East coast the following Week (defending multiple championships in both competitions). I was finally ready to kill and prove myself in some late season ITU triathlons... but fate had another plan for me.

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The day was Saturday, August 2, Papa Spivey's Birthday!

On this overcast summer morning, I had planned to go on an easy Saturday morning birthday ride with the Spiveyiest of Spiveys, my dad. We intended to climb to the tip top of Palos Verdes, just the two of us, in honor of his 56th birthday. Stopping for a celebratory brunch along the coast on the way back down. At the restaurant, we were going to satiate our grumbling tummies with a delightful birthday brunch and scenic view. Afterwards (letting those few extra post-belly-filling pounds work in our favor),  we would roll back down the rest of the hill, all the way home... oh and live happily ever after. 

The End.

But, heck, we were starting at the same time as our weekly Saturday morning Donut Ride; we might as well join the group. After all, the two of us felt speedier than our usual speedy Spivey selves. So, why not? Plus, it's always fun to chick/oldman some studly dudes up the hill. 

Little did we know, this last minute change of plans was a BAD IDEA!

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As the ride warmed up and neared an uncomfortable pace, we approached the sketchiest of sketchy roads (Portuguese Bend Road). As we entered the land movement area, a cyclist in front of me nearly nicked a broken curb. My thought: "OMGRRRD $#!%! Stay on the outside and be prepared for anything to happen."

About a minute later, on the last decline of the sketchy section - just before a steep climb - the group hammered downhill. We gained speed. Pushing 30+ mph. I was in the middle of the pack, along edge, near the dirt curb. It was a good position to be in, but visibility of the road ahead was spotty.

As we sped down the road, my wheel clipped a divot in the asphalt. My hands jolted, and bounced off my drops. I tried to regain grip, but the thrust was too forceful. I was going down. 

As my hands jerked downward, I did everything I could to turn out. My only concern at this point was the safety of those behind me. I couldn't bare the thought of being the cause of someone else's hurt. So I shifted my body, tucked my head, and screamed as I flew (like superman, left arm outreached) down the road. My body slammed against the pavement.

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Boy oh boy did I slam into the pavement, hard.

I screamed. My body, now separated from my bike. 'Hyps' and hollers echoed from behind. I skid. Gravel crackled through my helmet, and crumbled beneath my flesh.

Finally, my body stopped. I sat up immediately. Thinking I might be able to play it cool. I glance at the damage. My knee! Not believing my eyes, I was in shock. At that moment, I knew I definitely was not going to  be able to play it cool.

I stared at the hole. Inside, no blood yet, just gravel, lots of fresh gravel, the white of my tendon and the edge of my kneecap.  I shrieked "Ouch", over and over again, although pain hadn't set in just yet.

The sight of my wounds were daunting. Not because I was in pain, but because of what it all meant. All I could think about was my hard work, gone to waste. Staring at my knee, I began to tear up.

No more training. No more racing. No more working (with my JGs). No more doing the things that I absolutely love. No more doing all of the things that make me, me.

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I grew nauseous from the sight of my knee (or lack there of). In shock, I frantically looked around. My only sense of relief/clarity at this moment was that no one else had gone down. 

A crowd began to grow as riders stopped and turned around. My bike lay cracked somewhere behind me, atop the rocky embankment* that traced the cliffside.  My front wheel, somewhere a little further up the road. ** 

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I was lucky. I couldn't have been riding with a better group of people in this situation. A doctor rushed to my aid and braced me between his legs. He assessed my vitals and asked me what hurt. I didn't know what hurt yet, so I answered, "Everything".


More riders came to my aid. A police man and a handful of others directed traffic as I sit on the roadside trying to grasp what had just transpired. And of course, my dad and new step mom (who happened to be riding near by), came to my rescue. Both there for moral support and to finally cover the gaping hole from my sight.

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The paramedics came, but were called off after assessing that there was no damage to my head, neck, or spine. And another rider, and friend of my dads who lived a few blocks away, rushed to get his van (to avoid the outrageous cost of an ambulance). The firefighters helped lift me into the van as I winced at the pain that finally began to set in.

We drove off, heading to the hospital few miles down the road. Ironically it was the hospital my dad was born at. He hadn't been there since that day, exactly 56 years earlier, Happy Birthday Dad! :p

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The hospital was empty and I was rushed inside in a weary state. Finally, authorized an IV tap and pain medication. Once sedated, the nurses took x-rays of my wounds (knee, elbow, hand, and shoulder) as I felt blood pooling and dripping from the crater in my knee. Luckily the drugs had already kicked in and I was super loopy. I quickly fell in and out of consciousness, while simultaneously trying to hold friendly conversation with the nurses.

After an hour or so, it was time to clean me up and cinch my wounds. My body, completely powdered in fresh black gravel and speckled with blood. Lacking mobility on my left side, the nurses were forced to cut off my (new) cycling kit, grazed with fresh grit. My minor rashes were scrubbed clean and my broken (ring) finger and hand were splinted. But, the worst part was yet to come, numbing time. 

The needle that numbed my raw flesh made me cringe. The doctor injected an anesthetic into each of my open wounds to clean them and suture them shut. Once numbed, cleaning was tolerable. The doctor sprayed high pressure saline on each of the wounds, and proceeded to pick and prod at the thick black gravel until most was gone. Then he stitched. Nine stitches in my elbow, three in my split webbing, and five deep into my knee (miraculously). He somehow managed to get them all shut. 

After the nurses wrapped my wounds and braced my knee, I squeezed my crippled body into a dress. Finally,  some 6+ hours later, I was released. Two male nurses awkwardly lifted me and my leg into the car. It hurt, but at least I was safe, and on my way home.

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* The land movement on Portuguese Bend Road shifts so frequently that pipes cannot be buried underground. Instead they rest along a rocky embankment along the perimeter of the road.

** When my bike hit the bump, my front wheel jolted off because the bike I was riding (a "Blue" bicycle) was not manufactured with Lawyer tabs. (I presume the force of the jolt caused skewer to dis-lodge from the un-notched fork!) 

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T O T A L   D A M A G E:

• 9 stitches in left elbow
  
• 5 stiches in left k nee
  
• 3 stitches in split webbing on left hand
  
• fractured ring finger knuckle on left hand
  
• fractured bone between left thumb and index finger
  
• road rash: hands, left wrist, left shoulder, left hip, left bum, right elbow
  
• bruised: left quad, right upper back/armpit area
  
• gravel scratches on neck.
  

This is my happy face.

Smiles for days when painkillers kick in.

Graphic images of my wounds/healing progression.

When my house turned into a pharmacy.

painkillers + immobility = ridiculous snapchats about my stuggles

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T H A N K    Y O U 

Thank you to everyone on the Donut ride August 2nd who helped me stay out of harms way and get me to the hospital as efficiently as possible. I am so grateful to have been with the diverse group that I was riding with. Like I said before, I could not have been with a better group of people. Thank you Shannon for hiding my knee from my sight and bringing me clean comfortable clothes.  Thank you dad, well, for being my dad, and I'm sorry for ruining your Birthday.

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