I thought I was the only one. It was a truth I admitted to myself only in the darkest hours of the night, when you lie awake and are faced by those haunting thoughts that are otherwise whisked away before they float to the surface.
But now, I can say it: I am afraid of crashing. Especially of equipment failure. I never climb aboard my bike without having made a cursory check of all important parts: inflate the tires, check the headset, check the brake pads, bolts and cables, check the quick-releases. (There is something in the name “Quick-Release” that unnerves me and forces me to harbor a doubt that they will release suddenly and unexpectedly.)
I’ve been particularly nervous about it the last week or so. This year, I’ve noted that I’m descending and cornering faster; my confidence in my bike handling skills having skyrocketed since picking up mountain biking again. In the last week, I switched to a new pair of shoe (the White Ladies, passed on to me by John), and since doing so I’ve occasionally been clipping out of my inside pedal when leaning into a turn. It turns out that having your foot attached to your pedal contributes considerably towards staying upright. (On a side note, I wonder what the connection is there?)
Crashing is part of cycling and, like most of us, I’ve spent my time on the tarmac. Sometimes bad, sometimes not so bad. Like the time when I borrowed an English friend’s bike and pulled on the front break instead of the rear. And the time I overshot a corner racing my sister down a mountain in New York. Sometimes you pick yourself up and ride home, other times you head to the hospital.
The risks increase when racing, of course, and the scariest of all my crashes was the first time I went down in a bunch during a race. (I’d like to take this moment to thank the guy who thought he’d win the race by going through a non-existent gap from the middle of the field in the middle of the race.) The first time you find yourself suddenly laying on the road being hit and fallen on by other cyclists is a moment that is occupied not by any realization of what is happening but instead by trying to assemble the fragments of information being sent to your brain. You first become aware of what happened after you stop moving and continue to hear the wheels whizzing by your head as the rest of the riders (hopefully) avoid the carnage. The feeling of helplessness is particularly acute as the desire to remove yourself from the road washes over you.
But watching the Pros, they seem to take it in stride. I long held the view that after crashing so often, they have grown accustomed to it and generally don’t mind hitting the deck. They are hardened by the reality of their occupation and get on with their job. But I was happy to read a piece in the New York Times that said otherwise. Jens Voigt, cycling legend, hardman extraordinaire, and Velominati hero, is also afraid of crashing, as it turns out. Not only that, but so are the other Pros.
No matter how long you’ve been in this sport, there’s always that fear of crashing in the back of your mind, especially in the rain.
Crashing, as we are all aware of, is not a very pleasant experience. Everybody is scared of it, no matter who they are.
Not a very pleasant experience? There’s an understatement. I would say that crashing ranges anywhere from “Sucking” to “Fucking Terrifying” on the “Bad Things That Happen” scale.
That that in mind, take this spectator video of Boonen’s crash in the Tour of California. The riders yelling just before the fall, and the distance they slide is rattling. The callousness of the fan who scampers over to pick up Boonen’s bike with no interest in the rider’s well being before yelling at his friend to photograph him “quick” like it’s some sort of trophy is staggering.
Obviously not a cyclist, that one, because cyclists cringe and relive their own crashes any time they see a fellow Velominatus go down.
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My first big crash caught on tape. Last lap, my partner is leading me out on the outside, we're moving past everyone, I'm about to start sprinting. Two douchebags try to come inside us! We're already damn near in the gutter! One of them goes down right in front of my lead out, he goes down right in front of me. (Depsite what everyone thinks, there are two nearly simultaneous crashes. The one on the outside, and the one caused by the guy with the neon orange bike.) At :34 seconds you can see me tumbling on the white line. My partner was knocked out. Ended up in the hospital with a subdural hematoma, broken clavicle, two broken ribs (caused by me t-boning him I imagine) and a broken pelvis.
I walked away with some road rash on my back and pair of broken glasses. Bike was fine. I raced again two weeks later.
SGW's big crash
I became "risk-averse" many years ago. I don't think it affected the outcome of any races, but I was never that person who'd try to go around the hairpin 5kph faster because if it worked it would be the best way to win the race (they crashed).
My paranoia tends to be more of being driven over from behind. I tend to figure my bike will look after itself, a cursory glance over the QR's and general well-being and the first few potholes will tell me if anything more is wrong. I should be more thorough, like frank, because equipment failure is what caused my worst crash.
Oddly, I was riding that day without a helmet (a very rare occurance) and with prescription glasses (equally rare because I normally wear contacts). Riding out of the saddle on the flat at 30kph, the stem snapped. I hit the deck with my face and buried my glass-lensed glasses into my face. Obviously I lived and after a hospital visit to have glass pulled out of my face and an overnight, I walked away with no other injuries. Thankfully I didn't remember anything about it, but I wear a helmet all the time now.
The occasional races I've done in the last couple of years have highlighted a yawning skills gap at the lower end of the racing spectrum. Until, or if, I have enough fitness to contest sprints from near the front, I'll race to try to get away or make people hurt, but I'll duck out of the last few km when people start getting silly.
A far as Voigt goes, we rode up Le Petit Grand Bernard last year to watch the Tour come over, near the top I bumped up a realy large ripple in the road surface, it was a good couple of inches, and thought that could be nasty to catch wrong. I guess Jens caught it wrong. Didn't join the masses racing down afterwards though.
What the fuck? Jens has got a saddlebag in that pic. Burn him...
In answer to Frank I merely cite Rule 5. I think it best that we all put this unfortunate lapse behind us, move swiftly on, and never speak of it again...
@SGW
I'm surprised you can sit on a bike, your balls are so big - posting a video of your own crash. Good on you. I watched that about three times. First time through, I couldn't figure out why you went down, but the muppet came from behind and took you out.
@Jarvis
Ouch, dude. OUCH. Risk-averse is a good plan.
Was your stem aluminum? Carbon gets such a bad rap for breakages, but aluminum generally doesn't give any warning before failing, either. Handlebars, stems, forks. Three things I don't want breaking.
Close one, but no - it's not. It's one of those devices that transmits effort data to the broadcast stations for display. Why one would do that, I'm not sure...but at least it's not a saddlebag. There would be questions.
@heedypo
"Take off your bandages, cancel your manicure, and HARDEN THE FUCK UP."
Thanks for that.
@all
It just occurred to me that perhaps my cleats are on wrong, and that's why my shoe is popping out. Turns out, there is a left and right for Time cleats. Woops. I'll change that and see if it makes a difference. I'm guessing, "Yes".
@frank
No, no. I'm not the one shooting the video. When the vid starts, I'm way up front--of course. There's a flash of me catching my lead out's wheel before the crash at :45-:46 all the way on the outside, i.e., the left in the vid. Then you see me at :34 seconds. If you pause, and look outside toward the curb, to the left, you can see me tumbling on the asphalt along the white line. At any rate.
@SGW
Oh, OK. Studying it more, is it possible the douche who caused the trouble made it out? Is that the guy in white who made it through on the far left?
In the crash I described in this article, the guy who dove through the non-existent gap made it out unscathed, who knows what place he got. It was like 25 minutes from the end of a 50 minute crit or whatever. He dove through, clipped my and the guy to my right's bars, we fell into eachother and went down with a shitfuck of other guys. One dude split his gorgeous Look 525 in half; my (first) XLEV2 was fallen on by some fatass who spaghetti'd it. The thinest part of those tubes are butted to like .75mm. Light, but not burly. The greatest bit was that, on the way out to the race, I remember thinking, "Hey, I got rid of that last noise! My bike is finally silient!