Our new guest poster, Don Blount, is getting over a nasty crash. Not only did he crack a helmet — and a wrist — but he had to deal with an unexpected side effect.
I nearly always thought of vertigo as an Alfred Hitchcock movie starring Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak. At least that is until I came down with it. But when I awoke early Saturday Sept. 26 and the room was spinning, I had no idea that was what I was dealing with.
But let me back up a bit. Four days earlier, on the first day of fall, I had taken a tumble from my bike halfway through a 46-mile ride.
I had ridden to a nature preserve and stopped to take in the scenery and eat. My legs felt good. I stopped at the Visitors’ Center to look for a trash can to discard a banana peel. There were no receptacles but there were plastic bags to put your trash in and take it out with you. I put the peel in one and stuffed in a jersey pocket. I got back on my bike and started on my return trip home. As I looked up I saw a car approaching and thought it would be a good idea to get as far to my right as possible. The walking path was clear and I began to drift over.
What I didn’t see was that there was a gap between the nice asphalt road and the cement walking path. My front wheel caught in it, and I went down.
Best I remember, I fell on my head and left side, fracturing my left wrist and getting some road rash on my left shoulder, hip and knee.
As I have said previously, I wouldn’t ride without a helmet. My injuries would’ve been more severe had I not been wearing one.
A couple of cracks are obvious in this shot.
The helmet did exactly what it was supposed to do. It absorbed the blow, cracking in about a half dozen places so my head would not. I still received a sizable bump on my head that would take a few weeks to fully heal.
My bike was fine aside from some torn bar tape and a scrape on a brake lever. I was able to gather myself and ride the 23 miles home, wrist and all.
I was less successful hiding the injuries from my wife.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Uh, nothing,” I replied. She followed me as I limped through the house.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded this time.
“Well,” I said, “If you must do something, help me take my jersey off because I can’t lift my arm.”
I managed to get in the shower and muffle my moans as I cleaned my road rash.
The next day my wrist was swollen and unusable and I went to see a doctor who put it in a soft support and my arm in a sling. I would miss work this day.
Two days later, Friday, I saw an orthopedist who put my wrist in a cast. I picked purple as a color because my daughters like that color.
I went to sleep that night thinking the worst was behind me and that I’d have to figure out how to make do with a cast for a few weeks.
I didn’t know how wrong I was.
What else could afflict Don? Join us again tomorrow as Bike Noob brings another installment of “Blount on Biking.”