Wednesday, December 23, 2015

The worst mountain bike crash of my life

I took the worst mountain bike crash of my life last night.  Harrowing.  I'm lucky to be alive today.

It all started well enough.  60 degrees, a little damp but not bad, a nigh-full moon, and a leftover keg of Hydraulion from the Christmas party on Sunday.  For late December, the whole thing came together like a Christmas Miracle.  So four of us set out from the Rancho Relaxo at 6:30 to ride some gnarly local stuff for a couple of hours.  Good times all around - up and down the slightly slick but rideable paranormal loop, then onto the narrows and ledges of the nebula that exists in the time space continuum where Buck Mountain Reservoir should rightfully be.  Some great trails in there, not for the faint of heart - especially at night in a little mud, but again, all was well.

But we got back to the house and, excited and buzzed from the ride, I poured us 4 beers from the aforementioned leftover keg, and I was carrying three of them pyramid style in my hands while I had the 4th one for me in my teeth, and I was coming down the stairs off my front porch and I blew it.  Badly.

I was wearing bike shoes, which aren't great on stairs as I'm sure you know, and because of the 4 beers I was carrying I was sort of leaning backwards a little to balance them, and the stairs were a little damp I guess, so I sort of slipped and fell backwards at first.  I'm not sure what happened after that, because the 64 ounces of beer that I was carrying basically exploded, and the one in my teeth went up my nose, and I sort of choked on it, mid-crash, and I couldn't get my hands down in time to break my fall, and then I don't really know what happened.  I know I hit my back and my head on the stairs, and I remember not being able to breathe for a minute because of all the beer in my mouth and nose.  I'd like to think I turned it into a little tuck and roll, but that might not have happened, but anyway I came to some kind of rolling stop in the mud at the bottom of the steps, covered in beer, and rolling around in shame.  It took me a minute to get up.

C-ham came over from his truck where he'd been changing and asked poignantly, "what the fuck was that noise?"  He said it sounded like someone had dropped a tray of dishes.  I assume that was the sound my tailbone and ribs made as I was crashing down the stairs, but I don't know.  If there were a surveillance video of this, I'm thinking 10 million youtube hits, minimum.  As it is, no one saw it, not even me.

Today is painful.  I estimate that I snorted about 6 ounces of beer, which is not good for the nervous system.  It hurts my tailbone to take a deep breath, but I think it's bruised not broken. I have road rash on my back.  Bruises on both elbows and my butt.  Big lump on the back of my head.  I think if I'd had my helmet on, I'd have broken it.  The list goes on and on.

The lesson, of course, is that you should limit your beer carrying to three beers or less if you're wearing bike shoes at night and running down wet stairs.

The Pantani ride is in 7 weeks.  By all means, train, do your thing.  But be safe out there, kids.

Up, up, up.

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