My first bike crash was when I was 6, only two days after I had learned to ride my bike sans training wheels. It was the first real bike ride WITHOUT training wheels, AND not in the grass, AND further than 25 yards AND my mom let me ride in front as she followed behind. That was a big deal to my 6 year old self. The only thing known, for sure, in my non-helmeted head (I guess brains weren't as important in the 80's as they are now) was that I knew how to ride a bike, for REAL! I had no idea what the Tour of Flanders was that day...but I was ready to ride it and win it! Just as cobbles get in the way of Flanders riders, I too had my own "cobbles" to overcome...or handlebars that stuck out waaaaay too far and made me crash into the parked car on the side of the road. I remember being mad at my bike, of course it wasn't me, I was riding in a straight line. Stupid handlebars. The car was fine, and I was too. The small crash really didn't even bruise my pride, more than anything it taught me about fear...that night I remember asking God to protect me when the police found out that it was me who ran into the car. Instead of counting sheep, I was scared sh!tless and debated on asking my mom if we could just call the police and let them know that it was me. Of course, the police never came for me. And that was my first bike crash.
Unbeknownst to me, my mom was teaching me about confidence and how to spread my wings that day. I learned a thing or two about fear, as well. I was on top of the world heading out on that maiden two-wheel voyage...experienced a lesson along the way, came back a little beat up, was scared of silly outcomes, but it never stopped me from getting back on my bike.
Over the years, there were times my friends "gave me a pump" on the handlebars, gravel roads that gave way under me, skid marks of near misses, and solo, cross country rides to my cousins house, 3 miles away (when you are eleven, 3 miles IS cleeeeeear across the country). There were rides to the horse races in 356 degree heat. Sno-cone rides. And fun rides spent with my mom. Flat tires, lots of them. Rides to mini barns. Dares with an electrical fence. Friends, food, drinks. Criterium races in 467 degree heat and a little friend that lost her dinner all over the sidewalk (now that is a great way to get and keep a front row seat, no one fights you for it).
Then there was THE lesson in crashing...take a chilly February evening, two people reconnecting after circumstances of coolness intervene, and a night ride from Boise to Nampa for pizza and beers...without a bike lock. As we approached the intersection I got distracted...I could say it was the setting sun or that I was trying to pass my friend...but that would be dishonest...my distraction was caused by the nice rear view I had in front of me...don't fault me, I keep good looking company! It was in the moment of me telling myself, s
heesh, you are riding bikes with that!!, when I looked away (as to not get distracted)...and...bam, clipped his rear wheel. I went down immediately and remember feeling the pavement skid across my face until I came to a stop. The superficial scrape on the face was my main concern, the arm was an inconvenience, and the knee didn't even register. Adrenaline kicked in, I just needed a moment to catch my breath to figure out I was not getting back on my bike...and it was not because of the superficial wound on the face. We were within sight of the hospital, but I would have to ride across the interstate on Eagle Road with an arm that didn't work 100%; would have been like riding my bike with handlebars that stuck out waaaaaaay to far, but this time the traffic was going 55 mph, not parked. Since I had other options, I wasn't feeling up for a ride to the ER. I opted to sit on the side of the road while my Personal Assistant rode home and kindly returned to pick me up off the side of the road in his vehicle. As I sat there, waiting for him to return, for a brief but fleeting moment, I wondered had we found the bike lock and left sooner if the crash would have ever happened. I also smiled at the fact that I crashed while riding my bike on the surface of a planet. AND all because I had good looking company! That's the way to crash!
My PA returned and had connections, therefore I received zero wait time at the clinic to get x-rays. Freshly braced up, we continued to Nampa, albeit in a vehicle, and enjoyed the pizza, beer and great company, as originally intended. It wasn't until a few days later that I got the pleasure of selecting a cast, and another week until the magic purple unicorn cast was fully covered in autographs of some of the greatest dancers that exist! In the weeks following, I got the pleasure of replacing my helmet, patching my jacket, buying rustoleum to fix the scratches on my frame, and experienced so many lessons that only crashing my bike could have taught:
Lesson 1: Ride with less attractive company.
Lesson 2: Ride with a PA - so many advantages!
Lesson 3: Crash while doing something you love. Then get a purple cast!
Lesson 4: Don't let silly thoughts steal your confidence.
Lesson 5: Multi-tasking is an art form when you ride the trainer.
Lesson 6: Police don't arrest you when you are 6 years old and crash your bike, nor when you are 36.
Lesson 7: Wool socks make great unicorn warmers!
Lesson 8: Purple unicorns are a 2 in 1 deal, cat toys and cat beds!
Lesson 9: Always wear a helmet.
Lesson 10: It's hard to shave your right armpit without help from your left hand...try it, I dare you(-;
Lesson 11: Moms are always right behind you making sure you are safe!
Lesson 12: Superficial wounds to the face heal quickly.
Lesson 13: More than one coffee mug will get broke while wearing a cast.
Lesson 14: Get back on the bike and ride again!
