Back In The Saddle Again?

Since I got the green light today from the neurosurgeon to take the C-Collar off, I’ve started thinking about getting back on the bike. I won’t be getting on the road for a while, just riding indoors on my trainer. But the thought of being back out on the road became a bit more real to me. That, coupled with an article I’m reading in Inside Triathlon magazine about a deadly bike ride outside of Montreal last May, started me thinking not only about the emotions I might experience, but also just what the risks actually are.

In the last 15-20 years, since I’ve become a serious biker who spends a lot of time on the road, or on mountain trails, exposing myself to danger, I have developed a deep seated respect and caution about the whole enterprise. I have a life-long rule about attempting risky sports and activities: If it’s something where, you make a mistake or your equipment fails, you die, I won’t do it. E.g., skydiving, bungee jumping, hang gliding, etc. For me, riding a bicycle does NOT fall into that category.

I’ve spent a LOT of time on a bike in potentially dangerous territory. I’ve biked across the country; I’ve bombed 3000 vertical feet down dirt trails on a mountain bike; I’ve cycled to work in the dark and rain with morning and evening commuters. I’ve been in a paceline where the rider in front of me hit a big rock and went flying sideways right by my nose; I remained upright. I’ve been in races and events where other cyclists have made mistakes and died. In all that time, I’ve never been hit by a car or another cyclist. As a matter of fact, the few “serious” incidents I’ve had (until this event) all occurred on the safety of a bike path or driveway, and were all due to pure inattention. Most happened within a few days or weeks of a major event like an Ironman. For example, once before Ironman Canada, on the Green River bike path in Kent, WA, I drifted over a little crack in the asphalt, and tipped over. Another time, riding my mountain bike back from a quick pre-race shakedown along the RR tracks by the Pacific in Encinitas, CA, I neglected to notice my tire was flat, and flopped over in some gravel turning into my sister’s driveway. Again before another IM Canada, at the very end of a 100 mile cruise with friends near Banff, I tippled over taking the final corner into the parking lot. Two years ago, commuting to work on the Tacoma bike path, slowing around a corner to a stop, I lost control on some black ice.

All of these resulted in chunks of skin and deeper tissue being gouged out of one or another of my elbows; I even got stitches once. But I’ve never had a problem out on the open highway (remember, this most recent crash took place on a closed route, travel restricted to military vehicles.) I attribute my safety record on the highway to obsessive attention. For example, I never really enjoyed my trip across the country, never got a chance to look at the scenery, as I was always staring at the road in front of me, making sure the way was clear. Or else checking behind me via my mirror, to make sure traffic upcoming was behaving. I have replicated that behavior on my commutes, and on my jaunts by myself or in groups on the open road. I am very aware of the risks and safety options of various road characteristics, such as width of shoulder, speed of traffic, possibility of oncoming cars drifting over, people turing left in front of me or bombing out of a driveway from the right, which lane to be in and where to prevent cross-over accidents, etc, etc.

The one changes I am going to make is (1) to keep my head low, and look at the power meter ONLY when indoors on my trainer, or in a race itself, and even then only when absolutely safe. and (2), don’t be lulled into a false sense of security on a bike path or at the end of a ride – danger can come ANY time I’m on a bike. I know how to be safe; I just need to apply that knowledge ALL THE TIME, not selectively.

So this coming December or January, whenever I get back out on the road again, I will do so carefully, with concern, but not with fear. I am not ready to hang up my wheels yet; to keep rolling, I have to keep alert.