First day back to the gym since the accident. I have to admit, I was apprehensive that I’d ever get back. But 35 relatively easy minutes on a recumbent stationary cycle followed by physical therapy exercises. Tempo maxed out at at 156bpm heartrate, and some core muscles sang way out of tune, but a warm sweat was nice for a change and new headphones helped. I plan to go back soon, if only to get out of the house.
After a two week hiatus, Smokin’ Fast is back and naturally I’m talking about pain after spending the last three weeks thinking pretty hard about it whether I wanted to or not.
Pictured are some before and after images of my shoulder, including the scapular fracture through the glenoid fossa of the glenohumeral joint and the complete clavicle fracture. The clavicle was nailed back together with stainless steel, while the scapula was wrapped and riveted with titanium.
Douche in training here. Reminding you to hit the gym while the Douche in chief is laid up on painkillers, recovering from being under the knife, and then focus on his recovery. A proper douchebag wants to look good in his tank top. The problem is he forgets there’s more to filling out that shirt than what he can see in the mirror. Don’t forget your lats are bigger than your pecs. Just like your triceps make up 2/3rds the muscle mass on your arm.
Since most men judge each other by how much they can bench, You can still make a good show of it.
But a man who can’t do pullups is a woman. So work on that back, boy.
Bay Area Super Prestige Series 2012 Race Two: Candlestick Point (by FitnessDouchebags)
I registered for this race shortly after my first, and was hit by that car shortly thereafter. It was the first chance to see Robby, who I was riding to meet for some training when I was hit — he was competitive early in his own category race until he ran out of gas.
I thought seeing everyone out having fun without me would be more bitter than sweet, but I was wrong. Had fun watching the other racers in my Men 35+ Cat C cohort navigate the dusty course (the same as the previous race, but in reverse), so I went ahead and shot some video of the day’s action.
Me? My surgery on Wednesday went well, will have a better prognosis tomorrow on when I’ll be back to ridin’ dirty. I’m hoping to at least try a recumbent, stationary cycle this week.
I’m scared and angry. Scared that I won’t heal quickly or properly, angry that I was injured at all and at how difficult it’s been to get treatment for my injuries. I’m also sick and tired, my appetite is poor and libido slack. At this rate I can expect maybe two bowel movements a week. And no orgasms.
I’m already in the process of letting go of the dream that I can qualify for the Boston Marathon this year. I doubt I’ll be able to compete in the next cyclocross race I’m signed up for. And who knows when my left shoulder, which already suffered from tendinitis, will be healthy and pain-free enough to swim again?
Instead, there’s probably going to be lots of boring, repetitive physical therapy exercises. I’ll get to slowly wean myself off pain medication without the endorphin kick I might get from a trail run. And I’ll have to do it while back at work every day.
Did I mention the persistent nausea? Excuse me for a moment.
I’m already starting to feel slow and old and depressed and fat and forgetful and ugly and crippled and ashamed. I’ve been craving World of Warcraft. My moods seem about as stable and consistent as those of a depressed junkie. Which? Anyway, I haven’t even been able to muster the energy to follow up about the bike theft in my building.
In theory, I’ll have shoulder surgery on Tuesday and hopefully get an appointment with a maxillofacial surgeon for that week. No idea how long I’ll be laid up or on meds after that. Not to mention dealing with the paperwork and bills, insurers and lawyers. All of this grief given to me, and some of my hopes taken away in the blink of an eye by a seventy year old woman taking a left turn and failing to yield who didn’t even see me until after I was unconscious on the ground.
Nothing to do but make another berry smoothie and work on patience and compassion, I guess. Be thankful she didn’t take it all away. Be proud of how strong I’ve become that I’m sure I can ultimately survive this and thrive—I’m betting I’ll be crossing the line in Sacramento on December 2nd as planned, if not as quickly.
Sue looks surprisingly well! A little twisted, but not bent out of shape. He’ll probably be in racing form again before I will.
So this was me last night after waking up at San Francisco General. Some time around 6:00pm 5:30pm I was hit by a car while cycling to meet Robby for a ride. Not sure when or where or by whom, exactly! A concussion erased my memory about back to when I’d left my house earlier and some time after (thank goodness I was wearing a helmet, because if the fall hadn’t killed me the irony would have).
Of course one of my first thoughts when I woke up in the hospital and got some sense of what happened, I was all “phew, at least it’s not a 5150.” Again. I asked Riana, who took the photo, to collect what she knows from my reports and those given to her at the ER:
On Tuesday, October 2, 2012, Jackson went to meet his friend Robby in Golden Gate Park to go for a bike ride. He likely left home sometime between 4:30 and 5:00 PM. He sometimes remembers getting as far as the Panhandle. Somewhere near the park, he was hit by a car around 5:30 PM. The driver stopped and gave a report to police; she explained that she had the sun in her eyes and could not see him. He was taken to SF General’s ER, treated for a broken nose, broken clavicle, scapula, concussion, and lacerations, and was released around 4 AM Wednesday.
I’m still waiting for the police report for more details, but the first priority is to heal. Tomorrow I go in early for a consultation and possible surgery to place pins and a plate in my shoulder. On Friday I have an appointment to see about my broken nose. I haven’t seen my cross bike Sue since the accident, so I can only imagine how he’ll look when we’re reunited tomorrow.
But the real question is, how do I stay in shape and maybe even progress through my marathon training in the meantime, while also healing properly? Not sure it’s even possible, much less a good idea! So I might just have to get creative and confront my fear around losing access to the types of training that I know I love in the process.
Meanwhile, while I’ll admit to also being historically pretty anxious about any possible surgery, I am healing pretty quickly under the good care of my partner and friends and tapping into one of my stronger motivations — vanity. My nose seems to have gotten more crooked since that night somehow, I swear. Somebody call a doctor!
The Bay Area Super Prestige Cyclocross Series had its opening event of the season at Candlestick Park this past weekend, and I entered the Men’s C division for my first race since moving back to San Francisco. The weather was gorgeous — it was already in the 60’s when my class started around 9 — and the course was extremely technical with lots of sand, a barrier set that ended in a run-up, some rooty climbs and a long, fast road section.
Going for a training ride with Robby later today to work on skills. He offers some perspective as a more experienced rider who’s new on the Bay Area scene after cutting his chops in Georgia. He finished really well on the day — 21st out of 63 in his group — and I’m hoping to steal some of his magic.
“the problem with pushing helmets isn’t practicality but that helmets make a basically safe activity seem really dangerous”
From what I’ve seen of the stats (in some reporting reblogged by said Times, thank you very much), it’s true that around 90 percent of the people who die in bicycle accidents aren’t wearing helmets. They’re also often drunk, riding the wrong way down the street, or some combination of the three. (Looking at you, Kevin!) And the actual number of people who die on bicycles every year is kind of vanishingly small, especially when compared to the number of automobile accident fatalities.
Long story short, yeah, don’t let a helmet get in the way of enjoying a ride. If you do die, you won’t be around for all the bikeshaming in blog comments anyway.
Derby is like cotton candy for shutterbugs, figured I’d share some action shots from the Rat City versus Sacred City match that didn’t quite make the cut for today’s Smokin’ Fast column.
