As I look up into the bright lights, I realize that I’m definitely not still riding my bicycle. The fact that I cannot remember anything about my crash is probably a significant factor in my ability to ride again. I have no creepy feelings when I ride; I don’t look over my shoulder with dread every time I hear a car roll up beside me. While I’m told I was conscious and able to communicate with the paramedics on the side of the road for at least a few minutes, I have no memory before looking up into those lights. I don’t know whether I was in the ambulance or the hospital at that point.
The first thing I said when RBA Tom Rosenbauer handed me his cell phone to speak with my wife was “oh no, she is going to be so worried.” It didn’t occur to me that she was already pretty worried after being awakened by a 6:30 am call as the words “Hospital . . .Pennsylvania” flashed across the caller ID on the bedside phone. “Yes, there’s been a serious accident,” the voice said, “no, we can’t tell you how he is. You’d better get down here to the hospital as soon as you can. We need to operate.” My wife describes an eerie calm as she woke our two children and called her parents to arrange for the three-hour ride to the hospital.
I rode my first SR series in 2007, but was unable to finagle a trip to Paris that year, so PBP has been on my mind ever since. Riding in the 2009 edition of London-Edinburgh-London further whet my appetite for international rando-adventure and I was riding the Endless Mountains 1000K, in part, to ensure priority pre-registration for PBP 2011. At 4:00 am on August 26, 2010, about 25 riders and I rolled through the dark hilly countryside of Eastern Pennsylvania. At 5:45, I was fully awake and rolling along with the rhythm of the front pack of riders as the sun was just beginning to peek its head over the horizon. As a responsible randonneur, I was lit up like a Christmas tree, but this did not deter a young, distracted driver from gliding into the shoulder and taking me out like a bowling pin. My custom-made Independent Fabrication was totaled. I have no memory of the accident.
Fortunately, my bad luck ended when I was hit. I was rushed by ambulance to St. Luke’s Hospital in Bethlehem, PA where both my legs were operated on within a few hours of the accident to repair my broken right femur and left femoral neck. Two days later, I underwent another surgery to repair a badly broken left clavicle. All in all, I broke 24 bones – none of which was set with a cast. I now have a titanium rod the length of my femur permanently implanted in my right leg. I also have a bunch of screws and a plate holding my left femoral neck and clavicle in the right places. In addition to the breaks that needed surgical repair, I fractured my right scapula, ten ribs, five vertabrae, three hip bones and more things with names I can’t recall. Remarkably, I did not sustain any significant internal injuries, spinal damage or head trauma. There was not even a patch of road rash anywhere on my body. My wife Jessie never left my side and slept in a small foldout chair typically reserved for nervous spouses awaiting the birth of a new child.
With Ron Anderson and Laurent Chambard at St. Luke's Hospital (August 2010)
Luckily, my randonneuring experience came in handy during my recovery. Patience and the ability to endure uncomfortable and fairly unpleasant sensations for an extended period of time is useful during rehab. After four weeks at Helen Hayes and six weeks from the date of my accident, I was released on Columbus Day weekend and finally had the chance to drive home with my wife. I had to swap the time normally spent training and commuting by bike with physical therapy sessions, trips to the gym and stretching. I was directed to stay home to recover more fully and returned to work on a part-time basis in early November.
In November, I met with a shoulder specialist to review the results of a full series of scans and tests to find that her initial suspicions about why my shoulder was lagging were correct. It turns out that I was suffering from the effects of a previously undetected, displaced humerus fracture which involved a piece of bone and the associated rotator cuff muscles swimming around in my shoulder unattached. So my 24 broken bones had now grown to 25. No wonder I couldn’t raise my arm. The only solution was surgical and the likelihood of repair hovered around 50%. I was clear with the doctor that the most important outcome was getting my left arm to "handlebar height;" anything else was extra. In December, I went in for my fourth surgery and after a brief period of rest, the winter and spring were subsumed with shoulder rehab and the quest to build greater stability and strength in my legs.
My return to the road came in late March, after being given permission from both my general orthopedist and my shoulder surgeon. While I thought in the weeks after the accident that I would be able to ride PBP in 2011, I soon realized that the pace of recovery would be much slower than I originally dreamed. When I realized that I could not participate in this year’s edition of PBP, I knew that it would be important to replace it with another epic event to mark my return to riding and to use as a goal in my recovery and training. The famed Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee (D2R2) was just the ticket. At 180K, it was not the distance that makes the ride epic, but rather the 180 kilometers of largely dirt carriage roads that snake their way through the mountains of Western Massachusetts and Southern Vermont.
Climbing Perkins Hill on the NYC 200K (July 2011)
So where am I now, almost 14 months after the accident? I still love riding and continue to hope for a full recovery as a randonneur. I’ve yet to tackle distances greater than 200K, but will do so after a bit more training. More importantly, though, I feel like I’m approaching riding with a new mindset. I find myself closer to family than ever and have an even greater appreciation of the need for balance between riding and the other parts of my life. I realize that I’m married to an absolute saint. I’m thankful to everyone who reached out, sent an encouraging email, visited me in the hospital, posted a comment to my blog, prepared dinner for my family or was generally patient with me during my long period of recovery.
After a full year of recovery, I no longer feel like a patient. I’m living without chronic pain and moving around almost like I did before the accident. My hip just received a clean bill of health; it turns out that I do not suffer from avascular necrosis unlike 30% of those with similar breaks so there is no hip replacement in my immediate future. My shoulder mobility is still a bit asymmetrical, but I have a full cycling range and feel comfortable and safe on my bike. So what’s next? Randonnuering, like the rest of life, is about making choices. In addition to the R-12, I plan to ride a full SR series and perhaps a domestic 1200K. My white whale, though, remains PBP. While it may be a long way off, this is my true goal. I just ordered a set of personalized license plates that read “PBP 2015.” Join me. It should one hell of a ride.