As those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook already know, I crashed during a training ride Thursday evening and broke my shoulder blade. I was on my normal short training loop and taking a corner I've taken dozens of times before, fast but not crazy, and about 1/2 way through my wheels just came right out from under me. As near as I can tell, I hit a slick spot of oil. I hit the pavement pretty hard and slid across two lanes of traffic. Fortunately, I stopped sliding right before I got to the opposing lanes - and also fortunately, that traffic was stopped for the light.
I hit my shoulder very hard, ripping up my jersey - thankfully, it was my right shoulder, not the left where I broke my collarbone last year. I hit my right arm/elbow and slid on my right hip. I hit my head, but not too hard - helmet didn't crack. Lots of roadrash, but not as much as I expected considering how far I slid. Bike was ok after I knocked the front brake back over so I could free the front wheel. I rode the rest of the way home.
By the time I got home, my right arm was stiffening up quite a bit, so I started calling the guys that were on their way over to cancel our historical society meeting for that night. I figured I should have my shoulder checked out and would drive myself to the walk-in clinic. One of the guys was almost to the house anyway and offered a ride which I am VERY glad I took - by the time he arrived, there was no way I was going to be able to drive my truck (5pd shift).
Already-long-story-a-little-shorter, after spending most of the rest of the night in the clinic getting x-rayed and such, the doctor told me I'd broken my scapula. Got my jersey and undershirt cut off and my road rash cleaned and dressed. Despite the huge raspberry on my hip, the Pearl Izumi shorts hardly look like anything happened.
Bike is ok near as I can tell so far. Nothing really bad apparent on the ride home for sure. My nice red brake hoods are pretty scraped up, as is the left(?!) lever. But I think everything's fine. Can't believe I didn't lose anything - pump, seatbag, Garmin, CatEye all stayed attached to the bike. Glasses went flying, but I got those. New iPhone and other jersey-pocket-contents stayed put.
So, all in all, it could have been much, much worse. It's a pain, literally and figuratively. But it's probably the best time of the year - bike racing wise anyway - for it to happen.
And, obviously, I can type ok. :^)
Thank you again to all of you that have sent me well-wishes and phoned. The best consolation during all this is getting such great support and encouragement from friends. So thanks - you guys are the best.
Now, without further ado, and considering today is Halloween, herewith follows one of my favorite post. Sadly, I won't be riding past any cemeteries any time soon, but if you do be sure to let me know if you see anything, er, interesting . . .
If you want to see ghosts, ride your bike in Autumn along a lonely back road. I don't believe in ghosts - at least not the kind you usually think about. But I do believe in the ghosts of the past - the hauntings of a place by the memories of the people who were there. Who were they? Did they have dreams and plans like we do today?
My friend John and I rode past this cemetery a couple years ago. It's a fairly typical example for this part of the state, where old farmland has been reclaimed by the forest just like the farmers and their families were eventually claimed by time. It's a very quiet place out in the New England countryside, made all the more eerie by the sunless sky and cold breeze.
On a bike, you're not only closer to everything physically - you smell the fallen leaves and the wood fires burning and feel the cold wind on your skin - but you get closer mentally as well. Out in the country on a bike all you hear besides the hum of your tires on the pavement are the sounds of the wind going by, the squirrels gathering their food for the winter, and the rustling of the trees.
If during your ride you stop at a spot like this and imagine, even for a few minutes, how these people lived, who they loved, what their hopes were and whether they ever achieved them, you might see some ghosts. At the very least you'll appreciate more deeply what they went through and how privileged we are today.
And if you're especially quiet, you may even hear in the sound of the leaves floating by on the breeze a whisper of thanks from those people for not letting them be forgotten.

