Marco Velo meets the Kemmelberg
There’re two things certain in Cycling: pain, and more pain. How we attain either, each or both of them can present itself in many forms. When you take out your brand new bike for its maiden voyage, lean it against a wall at the pub apres ride and manage to gouge a chunk of paint of the seatstay when you stumble aboard after a pint too many, that hurts. Climbing a 22% cobbled wall, that hurts. The emptiness in your legs after 150km in the heat or cold and the only way home is up, yep that hurts. And crashing. That can hurt more than anything.
It’s not just the physical damage sustained in a bender that can make you cry, or want to. The longer term effects can be more painful than the actual bruises, cuts or broken bones. And when you start to think about crashing before anything has even happened, well that can fuck with your mind and produce stress that isn’t really needed when you’re already dealing with other riders, cars and trucks, or trees, rocks and roots. The Fear of crashing can be your worst enemy, and possibly the catalyst for the result you’re desperate to avoid.
As soon as Keepers Tour 15 was confirmed, two things were apparent: I needed to get into shape for the long days on the cobbles, and I needed to stay uninjured so I’d be able to ride the cobbles and possibly have a chance of injuring myself on them in April. The Fear started eating away at me. Not the fear of getting hit by one of the thousands of angry motorists with a hatred of cyclists that are encountered every week, but a fear of myself and my ability to ride a mountain bike fairly quickly; the fear of steep and technical terrain; the fear of limited traction; and the fear of a competitive nature, as I’d entered a couple of enduro races held on some of the nastiest (but insanely fun) trails in the country. Already I was mentally defeated. I had to confront The Fear head on.
Instead, what I did was give away my entry to the nastier of the races to one of my mates and Spoke mag colleagues… he was gutted at missing out, I had nothing to prove by racing it, and it seemed the noble thing to do. At least that’s how I justified the fear I was experiencing. The other race is on trails I’ve never ridden, and my plan to ‘ride/not race’ it lessens the chances of crashing. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. Being only two weeks before KT15 is a bit of a worry, but there’s still time to pull out!
So for the last four weeks my mountain bike has gone untouched. Not entirely due to The Fear, a little bit of circumstance with weather, work, festivities and building up some endurance on the road bike. Today I hit the dirt. Literally. There wasn’t much Fear involved, the ride was nearing the end and all the sensations were good. Maybe too good. I was riding well, in control and fairly pacy. On a trail I’d ridden hundreds of times before, on an innocuous corner, a small rabbit darted across the track in front of me and instinct dictated that I try and miss it. My front wheel caught the soft edge and before I knew it my KT was flashing before my eyes as I hit the rocky ground with a thud. A fair bit of skin donated to the earth and a decent whack of the head, but nothing to put me out of action for the rest of the ride or the coming weeks. Certainly nothing compared the trauma @ChrisO is going through right now. And then I remember @itburns and perspective really hits home.
As I sit here with blood congealing on my arm and a dull headache and hazy recollections of the moments after the impact, I feel that conceding to The Fear will never be wise. If we let it win, then we’d never step foot out of the house and sling a leg over any top tube, whether it be sloped and fat or svelte and flat. Risk is always there when we ride our bikes, but it’s there in everything we do every minute of every day. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop riding for three months so I can ride in three months.
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you can't be afraid to live because you might die. Just sayin.
When reading these stories I think I am blessed. I only "crashed" because I had trouble releasing my foot from the pedal.
One positive I take out of my crash is that I will never, ever think that training and racing is actually painful, let alone more than I can bear. Discomforting and unpleasant perhaps but intense and intolerable... pah.
I'm hoping this will make up for my inevitable fear in the bunch or on descents. And perhaps putting my new TT bike to good use for a while.
excellent brett. I am in a similar conundrum. Last May, I managed to set my alter ego riding companion, CRF250X, down hard on some local dirt. JRA! as it were. A solid conk to the head, and larger hit to the hip joint. And later an issue with cracked ribs. I ride the moto like I ride all my bikes, casually deliberate, mostly with better riders, so I am the tourist of the group. And I ride fully protected with body armor, while I imagined what this slow fall would have been like in lycra kit.
All I could think of during this episode was how would I be on my "real" bike? I have progressively let the time pass, to be back to solid form. ie, my buddies and I working each other over on the local roads. It has taken months and I have been more aware of the sketchy stuff that happens on the roads.
But I have yet to put myself back on the moto to feel that sensation between the thighs.....but I most likely will. I can't end that part of my riding career looking back on that one time. There are miles of freedom to cover.
@bea
@Beers, I TOTALLY see what you mean about feeling like you're atop the bike, not in it - the exact same thing happens to me. Thinking too much is totally the cause.
This discussion actually inspired me to do something about it yesterday. I suited up, gritted my teeth, and pointed my fixed-gear at a nasty, hilly route that would take me down a high-traffic, high-speed road. In the rain. Slippery as hell. After 3 hours of having soccer moms in SUVs blast by me at 50mph, the fear seemed cauterized somehow - the last 10 miles felt awesome.
I must not fear, so FUCK IT. Go.
@antihero
Watched a video on Friday of a local cyclist that was killed in a simple bike crash last year. The video made it clear that the rider was making a bad move. Came up along the pace line and bulldogged into a gap that hadn't opened up enough. The rider went down on left side and hit his head -- instantly gone. Riders are getting away with making bad decisions and eventually the worst decision will catch up with them. No room on a bike for stupidness.
@antihero
[ Kirk Lazarus voice ] "Like the dumbest mother fucker that ever lived. Everybody knows you never go full on mother fucker."
"Never go full mother fucker."
I go down hard on the mtb at least once a month, last one separated my shoulder. When you want to ride at speed it comes with the territory. Took me more than a few tides to get back into it again. But now I have become a little sick of the mtb and have been hitting the road more and more. Now I want to start riding the road bike at night but it is not my fear of crashing, it us my Wife's fear if me crashing and or getting hit.
How does one handle that one, I can't sit on a trainer, I need to be outside.
@Demetra Darrow
The best way to road ride at night is with others... the more flashing lights the better. We ride through winter in our small group, straight after work so at peak hour. There are always commuters out at that time, so I suppose drivers are aware of cyclists at that time of day (night).
One thing that shits me (as a driver too) is flashing front lights, especially really hi-powered ones. It's more distracting than a solid front light and doesn't give a good indication of distance. they should be illegal.
@universio
Do spare me. If I want this kind of talk I'll call my mother.
Seriously. Have you never ridden on a busy road in the rain? If you haven't, and if you don't do it regularly, you obviously either live in the desert or aren't riding enough.
If you want to see Full Motherfucker, go here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8e1jVY006g