...and done

http://bobickerstaff.com/turkey-cross#/id/i9027709

Third lap around, I had plenty of space around me as I approached the first steep descent, my wheels a bit squirrely in the off camber mud & grass that was thawing out over the Turkey Cross course in Parker, CO. I knew the line I wanted, I set up at the top of the hill, drifted back off my seat, arms loose, and dropped in.

My rear wheel slid left. Hard. I unclipped right to tripod and compensate, but the entire weight of my bike and body came crashing down on my right leg as I fell. I could feel something pop, something very wrong, as I went down on the course. Knowing I was in a dangerous place to lay on the course, I tried to crawl with my bike under the tape, off the course, as I screamed for a medic. The pain in my right leg was somewhat deadened by the adrenalin rush of the race, the descent and crash, but I knew it was just about as bad as it could get when I looked down at my leg and my foot pointed off to the right, far out of alignment. Someone came by to help, I told them my leg was broken, I needed a medic, and I screamed in pain.

...

It's four days later, and I'm home in bed. After the trip to the hospital ER and surgery, I've acquired six screws and a pin down the length of my tibia to hold my leg together while it heals for the next six months. My tibia nearly broke the skin down by the ankle, the two ends of the bone completely separated. The fibula was broken up high, in the calf. And to top it off, when putting in the hardware the surgeon discovered a break in the ankle itself, which added in two more screws atop my foot to hold it all together. Every time I close my eyes I can see the entire event unfold in the darkness, I open my eyes to make it go away right after the voice in my head screams "medic!"

This blog is going to be about recovery now, because this crash is the kind that could put an end to bike racing for me. Not that I want it to, but because the crash happened in what is such a common terrain feature in races here, that I will need to wrestle with the fear of doing it again every time I descend on a bike now. When I broke my hand in 2012, it took me over a year to regain confidence to corner with any kind of speed on the bike. That was a small thing compared to this. Living in Colorado, racing Cyclocross, steep drops and squirrely conditions are part and parcel when riding. And for the next six months, all I can do is sit back and watch it unfold in my memory, again and again.

*note: if you are looking for Greg Keller's excellent blog Mud and Cowbells, you came to the wrong place. Go here instead!

Iron Core

I've been dealing with knee pain for almost two years now when riding. I've spent plenty of hours poring over internet forums, WebMD, Bicycling Magazine tips, and doing exercises assigned by physical therapists until my kids started sitting on me while trying to get my "core" workouts in. So what do you care? Let me save you a dozen co-pays for physical therapy, and suggest that if you have consistent issues with anything, consider getting a referral to a cycling-aware sports medicine doctor (usually an orthopedist). And as you get older (I'm 45 and not getting any younger), be aware that you are losing muscle mass, especially when you don't use those muscles appropriately. And finally, here is a suggested set of exercises to keep your back, thighs, knees and hips happily riding.

1. Front Plank (3x60 seconds): Elbows directly below your shoulders, legs straight and feel flat so your toes and elbows are contact points with the ground. Work up to 60 seconds, don't forget to breathe. If you can't do a full plank, start with your knees on the ground. When you can do 60 second sets with your knees on the ground, start getting off your knees and on your toes.

2. Side Plank (3x60 seconds each side): With your elbow directly below your shoulder, straighten out your body and lift your hips off the ground. Again, work up to 60 seconds holding (and breathing). If you can't even get up on your feet, bend your knees so your feet are back, and straighten from knees up. When you get to 60 seconds with bent knees, work on straight legs. When you get to 60 seconds on straight legs, work on lifting the top leg up, parallel to the ground. When you can do that (side plank with lifted leg) for 60 seconds, start doing (seriously) leg lifts with the top leg while in the plank.

3. Bridges (3 set of 50) On your back. Knees bent, feet flat on the floor. From the hips, lift your butt off the ground, make sure to engage the lower back muscles (not the shoulders or stomach). When you can do 3 sets of 50 with both feet on the ground, start doing with one leg extended straight from the hip, into the air.

These exercises strengthen your core, for better stability on the bike, your hips and butt, to improve your pedaling line (knees should go straight up and down like a piston), and your ability to sit up, take the weight off your hands, and still be stable on the bike.

Please note, I am not a physician, a physiologist, a therapist, or any other certified medical professional. But I've seen a lot of these folks, and these three exercises sum up a lot of money spent on trying to overcome my pain and difficulties riding. You should always consult a medical professional before beginning any exercise routine. I'm not one.

Life as a 45+4 Cyclist

Racing bikes is better and cheaper than a sports car or a trophy wife when you experience a mid-life crisis. That's what I was telling myself at 6:15am as I lay in bed, aching from head to toe after racing cyclocross the previous day. It was one of the best weekends of racing in the Colorado 'Cross season - Cross of the North in Loveland, which offers up to 3 days in a row of racing punishment . So there I was, trying not to wake my wife as I lurched out of bed and downstairs to prepare for day two of racing.

A few years ago a doctor told me yoga was good for cyclists, but since I have two small children, a working wife, and a 45 minute commute each way each day for work, that meant I went out and bought a DVD instead of joining a studio. As I turned the volume all the way down on the TV (so I wouldn't wake the family) I began to work out the kinks from what I thought was a pretty good day racing. Middle of the pack, nothing special, but for a guy who manages 3 hours of riding a week (including the weekend race and warmup), I wasn't about to complain about that result. At the end of the DVD, my body wasn't in complete revolt, so I packed up a mid-morning snack to eat before the race, and started packing my gear in the car.

Bike, spare wheels, dry clothes, warm clothes (it was 35º when I went outside), beer. That covered it, so I snuck back upstairs, kissed my wife & kids goodbye as they slept and rolled out the door for a ninety minute drive up to Loveland. Even on a Sunday morning traffic on i-25 through Denver can be heavy, but with the Broncos away, traffic was manageable, and the drive was uneventful. The morning before a thick fog lay over the valleys north of Denver, but today it was just overcast, windy and cold. Driving into the parking log, I could see the wind whipping the course tape along the bowl, and a handful of racers on course.

Bike wash & mud pits

Although there were as many cars as Saturday, the cold, howling wind had kept away the families and friends who hadn't paid to ride that day, and races had fewer competitors than the previous day. Even leaving home at 7:30 am, I didn't arrive with enough time to pre-ride the course changes, so I got on the bike and started riding around to get my legs loose and warmed up for my race. Chatting with some of the other racers, I got a brief explanation of the changes to the course, and settled in for the call ups. A lot of folks are excited to get a good callup. I'm a horrible starter, so when I found myself in the 2nd row, I started to dread lap number one.

Thirty seconds.

The whistle blows, and everyone pedals furiously to barrel into the first set of off-camber climbs and drops. I find myself drifting towards the back of the 30-odd racers cresting the first run-up. That run-up ends in a long off-camber drop that turns straight down the hill with a little pop-up and then sharp right turn into a series of tight technical turns. Except that when I hit the bottom of the hill, I'm stressed by the erratic nature of the riders around me, my elbows are locked out, and I find myself momentarily airborne, then face down in the dirt as my bike lands atop me. Moments later a wheel smacks into the back of my helmet, and as I shake my head, straighten my handlebars, and push off (only to discover I had to stop and put my chain back on). I'm now easily thirty seconds behind the back of my race, and barely 30 seconds ahead of the Cat 3 women who started just behind us.

I drop into a higher gear to try and stay away, but with the hardened, twisty nature of the course, I'm barely on the edge of control trying to catch up with the men and stay ahead of the women (and the hecklers happily remind me that there's a teenage girl about to pass me on course). Realizing my race is over, but my $35 is paid, I settle in to try and improve my skills for the next 4 laps of racing, making way for the competitive women to pass when they catch me, and cheering for the ones I know as they do. My head is throbbing, my lungs burn, and suddenly I hear a familiar voice screaming "go daddy go!"

Seems like I know what I'm doing (I don't)

Somehow I manage to turn it up a notch and try to fight back into the race for the only person I don't want to disappoint - my 6-year old daughter. I negotiated the long steep descent without issue for the next 4 laps, recovered from 29th to 20th place, and rode through squirrely mud better than I think I ever have. At the end of the race my legs are gray with mud from knee to toe, my front wheel is squealing from ruined bearings in the hub, and my two little girls are simultaneously hugging me and begging to go home where it's warm.

I spend one lap at the kids course with my eldest who complains her bike is too heavy to pick up over the barriers but does it anyway before her mother whisks her off to a warm car ride home. Three hours of driving for forty minutes of cheering, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

Ground Zero

September 19, 2014.

Earlier this week, there was a great tweet about how cyclocross in Colorado during September was more like dust and cowbells than the cold-weather sport we know and love. No insults due to Greg Keller (@mudandcowbells on Twitter) - I loved the description, as I've spent most of my life living in the high plains/high desert landscapes, and dust is far more common than mud around here (climate change notwithstanding). So here it is.

Dust and Cowbells is a place for me to talk about cycling that interests me. If you want more immediate (and random) updates about such things from me, you should follow me on Twitter @mlinde.