Wipeout

Cycling can be dangerous.  Cycling road racing is said to be the most dangerous sport in the world. Just ask a Tour de France rider careening down a mountain descent at 60 mph or in the mad sprint to the finish. Tragedies on two wheels are not uncommon. Wikipedia has a list 

If you are more than a casual bike rider, you have likely experienced a crash landing. Even outside a 176 rider peloton, hazards are manifold. Curbs, loose gravel, ice and mud, potholes, cars, other riders, misjudged curves, bike malfunctions, opening car doors, unexpected obstacles or just plain inattention to your environment.

I have experienced many close calls courtesy of all those various hazards. And I have gone to ground a number of times, but only once have I been put out of action for any period of time because of a crash.  That happened in 2017 when on a So. Minneapolis ride, I unexpectedly came upon 8” water pipes laying across the roadway. Unable to avoid them, I rammed them and took flight over the handlebars. I have no recollection of the (I’m sure) graceful glide over the bars, but the landing is vivid. I came out of that with a badly sprained wrist but happily no head injury.  Put me on the shelf for a couple weeks. 

That was my worst biking day - until last Thursday. 

I decided to check out Swing Bridge Park and the Mississippi River levels. The bridge is a former double-decker - rail & auto - that crossed the Mississippi in Inver Grove Heights. It has been truncated and repurposed as a sort of pier extending well out into the river. Check it out. It’s a great spot to barge watch. 

Not so great for me that day. As I was pedaling out to the far end, the wheels of my bike slid out and I watched the waves rise up to meet me. Not water. May flies, thousand and thousands of them. As I was falling, the surfer hymn - you know the one if you are of a certain age - with the frenetic drum and guitar riffs, the maniacal laughter and the one word lyric flashed through my brain, all in that 1 second drop into a swarm of writhing bugs turned to grease by my wheels… Wipeout. [That was a Faulkner sentence.]

I crawled from that disgusting mass over to the bridge railing and sat brushing off bugs and fighting back dizziness & nausea and thinking how stupid I had been. I recalled stories of cars sliding into ditches after driving through a swarm of May flies. I knew immediately something not very good had happened to my left ankle, smashed between the fallen bike and the bridge deck, the bugs not providing much of a cushion. I have a lot of experience with ankle sprains from my volleyball playing days, back in time when I could leap high enough to allow landing on another’s foot. 

Deja vu.

After some recovery time, I got back on my bike and rode the 6 miles back to my truck at one foot power. This was my 2nd stupidity and 2 stupids do not make a smart. 

This might have actually been hilarious if it were a tale told to me rather than by me. It would still be funny if I could have survived unscathed.But I was scathed. Turns out my ankle was broken, amazingly the first bone break in my relatively long life. 

So after a 2023 of no riding due to multiple medical issues, here I am in 2024 again on the shelf, awaiting surgery to put pins in my ankle.

Life is hard.

Copyright ©  2024  Dave Hoplin