Ouch

On Saturday, June 19th, the Monsters rode in the Harpoon B2B - a 150 mile ride from Boston into the hills of Vermont. This is a slightly trimmed-down version of the ride report that I wrote a day later.

Stats

We had 12 monsters in a group that left Boston around 7:15. 3 left earlier in the morning. Ian the Awesome drove the Special K van in support, also taking pictures and dealing with emergencies.

According to Chip's bike computer, the group did 148.3 miles @ 19.4mph.

I wiped out at mile 78 and didn't finish the ride. Story below...

Preparation

Dave did an amazing job of pre-planning the group - getting cars, bike racks, and food organized, taking a trek up on Friday with Peter to drop off a car to bring back, coordinating a morning schedule. It made for a great ride, a smooth morning, and good times as a group.

Check In & Go

We got into Boston about 6:45. We got into the unpacking zone, unloaded bikes, and went to get registration materials. Gah, I couldn't find everything! Oh no, where was I supposed to put my bike? Why is that guy yelling? Where are the portapotties again? Where do I put these safety pins? Ouch!! I think I must have been wired because everyone was telling me to relax, breathe, it was just a bike ride... The whole scene - except me - was actually pretty smooth and calm.

The weird thing about the launch area was the lack of cyclists. Because they were launching people in waves, and because people were showing up in waves, it was hard to get a sense from the starting area of the number of cyclists on the course, getting ready to go, and following later. It felt almost empty, with occasional waves of riders leaving up and showing up seemingly randomly.

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We all finished getting ready, got in the starting pen area, and left 15 minutes before the stated time of 7:30 because they had no one else to send out before us.

Boston to Lexington @ 16 miles

All of us were wearing Monster's jerseys - mostly the 2010 white ones - except Mike, who was in stealth mode. Mike followed the instructions given by Harpoon and wore the red B2B jerseys that everyone was supposed to.

As we rolled out through the quiet streets of Boston, the downside to everyone wearing the same jersey became immediately obvious: it was a little harder than normal to tell people apart, and hard to tell who was trying to ride with whom.

On the upside - the Monsters definitely stood out in the crowd.

We rolled through Boston, onto Beacon street. It was great to ride through the city at that time of day. Will and I savored the views as we crossed the Harvard Bridge, heading towards MIT. We created our own slightly haphazard and unpredictable traffic pattern on Mass Ave, heading through Central, then Harvard, then Porter Squares.

There were about 30 of us in the group, and progress was irregular. Sometimes we stopped for red lights. Sometimes we didn't. I learned that slowing for a red light in the middle of a peleton is more dangerous than running it in front of an angry driver. Pothole avoidance was non-trivial, with only some riders pointing them out. (Stay away from the guy in the red jersey! Wait, which one was that?)

This is my normal commute, and, ironically, I usually ride it both faster and with fewer traffic violations...

Things got a bit more rational as we got into the outskirts of Lexington and the group thinned out a bit. Around 16 miles out, we hit the first rest break, which was just a porta-potty stop. Philip stood up and looked back - "We go ahead?" Yes, we all go ahead - there was no hesitation on that. Suddenly, as all the red shirts turned into the rest stop, it was just the Monsters riding ahead on 225.

Lexington to Townsend @ 47 miles

A few minutes later, about 10 red shirts bridged up to us. We cruised out 225, familiar stomping grounds. "Short pulls!", yelled Dan. Short pulls it was... for a bit. Then we lost a bit of rhythm. "Short pulls", hollered Philip. And we got into a groove again. We zipped along, averaging 22mph. As we ticked away the miles under the trees, someone said, "remember this stretch when we're 100 miles away from here". And indeed, we knew the open sky and the heat was coming, but for now, it felt like a usual Saturday morning ride - with just a bit of Tuesday thrown in. "Slow it down, guys!" yelled Philip. You betcha...

The group never quite got the perfect rhythm, but we settled into a good pace. I learned how to differentiate the red shirt guys. (That one is friendly and curious about handle-bar video cameras. Smile when passing. That one has a clicking chain, changes lines at random and surges oddly. Stay away.)

Along the way, we picked up a couple of good riders who poached about 20 miles with us. Eventually they peeled off, heading back on whatever they had been planning before.

Around mile 47, we reached the first serious rest stop. As we approached it, I felt a weird dragging on my bike, and my rear brake wasn't working. It turns out that my seat-mounted water bottle carrier had come loose.

Because I had dehydrated so badly on the 200k brevet, my plan was to carry 4 bottles with me to have enough liquid to survive the afternoon heat. So I had the two standard frame mounts, then two more behind my seat. I'd just put that on the day before, and it had come loose. We pulled into the rest stop and I went to see the mechanics to see if I could get it fixed. They were busy with more serious repairs, so I bailed, popped the carrier off my bike, and put one bottle in my jersey instead.

The stop had lots of folks coming in and out - getting water, hitting the head, taking advantage of things available like bananas, oranges, powerade, clif shots, the mechanics, and so on. We gathered around Awesome Ian and the van in the shade at the far end, took care of a few things, and were off again in 14 minutes.

We left in a bit of a rush because we saw the group leaving that we had come in with. I think we made a bit of a group mistake here - it took us a while to regroup with all the Monsters together on the road.

Townsend to Mr. Mikes @ 70 miles

From Townsend onwards, it was open roads and hills.

There was a bit less tree cover as we rode, less and less as we went along. And the sun was getting toasty. So the overall temperature was becoming a factor. A comparatively small one at this point, but still a factor.

Over the 10 miles after the Townsend stop, we climbed about 1200 feet. It wasn't bad (it was sort of fun) but it was definitely a change, it sapped energy, and it challenged the large group riding in new ways.

In fact, because of the group riding, I really didn't enjoy this section. Several groups had merged after the rest stop, so we were at ~30 people to begin with. Then, as we hit the hills, we passed riders, or we hit small groups that would surge, then hang with us. So the group grew. And as it grew, it got dumber. The folks in the front would slow down for slow riders, or would not pull ahead when it made sense to do so. They wouldn't rotate off. On the flats, we would pick up speed, get a sort of a rotation going, and then it would stall. We would hit a hill, things would get bunched up, then lots of people would pass, often when there was traffic. Most of the Monsters eventually worked through this and got out in front - and then the others would team up and bridge, as if it was a race.

In discussions at the next break, Philip and I were both pretty annoyed. DanH felt that those of us in white shirts weren't necessarily behaving any better, which is probably true. This group was not a group, it was a collection of many smaller groups that were reacting in ways that seemed reasonable to them but didn't work for the large set.

My sense at this point was that I was going to have to think carefully about doing the B2B in 2011, and it would depend a lot on the latter half of the ride. This part was fun to do once, but didn't seem like it would be fun to do again.

Along the way, we crossed into New Hampshire. Todd waved his goodbyes and turned home to attend his son's baseball tournament. I think PJ took the state line, but I'm not sure.

At 70 miles, we pulled into the next recommended rest-stop - a convenience store. We needed a break for water, shade, and to regroup. My 3-bottle strategy had paid off - I had used all 3 just on that stretch of highway, but I felt pretty good. We hung out a bit longer this time, knowing it was going to get hot.

Just before we got moving, Peter from ATA and a group of other fast riders showed up. That would be the 20 or 21mph group that left after us in the morning. They were looking pretty fresh....

Mr. Mikes to Wipeout @ 78 miles

We took off together, without other riders, and did a much better job of making sure we were all there. But.. 11? Oh wait, Todd took off a while ago.

This part of the ride was a lot of fun... it was just us for a while, it was a bit shadier, and we got into a better rhythm. A few of us were starting to droop a bit on the hills, so we slowed it down and made plans for where to regroup if needed.

Somewhere along the way, we got passed by the 20+ mph group. They screamed by us on some hill. It was tempting to go with them. Sort of like when you're standing on the edge of a cliff, and it's tempting in some insane way to jump off. You know it'll be a blast for a really short while, and then it won't be much fun at all...

We went down a nice little downhill, flattened off into a gentle slope, singled up in a tight paceline, settled into 25mph or so, and I crashed. Hard. I was down on the pavement, unable to move - not unconscious, but definitely not quite conscious either.

At this point, my ending and everyone else's take different paths. Mine continues below.

Everyone else rushed back, took care of me until EMTs and then an ambulance showed up, and I was whisked off to the ER.

Wipeout to the End

I'm waiting for someone else to write this part, since I wasn't there, but here's what I've heard from a few conversations.

The other guys continued on, somberly. Around mile 90, they hit the "big hill" on the road - the Leviathan. This was considerably less tough than many rides the Monsters do, so climbing it was not that big of a deal.

However, the heat was seriously kicking in. At the rest stops at the 97 and 125 mile markers, they were pouring water on their heads and desperate for the right kinds of food. Many of the group dealt with cramps along the way - some more serious than others. A group of 4 completed together, with everyone else coming in individually shortly thereafter.

Wipeout to Alternative Ending for Remy

Near as I can tell, here's what happened. I am piecing this together from what the other Monsters heard from the motorcyclists, from my GPS, from my helmet and road rash, and from my video camera. I don't have a memory of any of this.

  • We singled up after a downhill.

  • I was in back.

  • It was a long straight slightly down bit, so I apparently got my hand-held camera out.

  • I pulled over a bit to get a good shot of the group and, probably, to zip up for some close ups.

  • I looked back and realized there were motorcyclists behind me.

  • I pulled back into the paceline @ 25mph.

  • My handlebars wobbled, hard.

  • I may have hit something on the road - there's a bump in the video, but I can't see the pavement so it's hard to say.

  • My hand-held camera flew out of my right hand - so I clearly was not holding the handlebars with 100%.

  • Stupid stupid stupid. Argh!

  • I was down in a split second, flying off the left side of my bike into the middle of the lane.

  • I hit on my left side and on my head, probably more face down than not.

  • The motorcyclists came by, honking for the other guys to stop.

  • One of the Monsters was already halfway back, several others following.

  • (I couldn't really watch the video any more at this point... maybe tomorrow.)

I lay in the road for a bit, clearly in pain, able to answer basic questions but barely staying conscious. Somewhere in here, my memory kicks in ... I recall laying on the hot pavement, seeing Dave and Dan above me - somehow a very welcome site, why? - asking me questions they already know the answers to, like what my name is and stuff. It seems cooler over to the right in the shade and if I can just get over there, I'm sure I can shake off this annoying pain thing and get back on my bike and keep riding, so I try to scoot over... everyone says "no, don't move" but I don't care, I had to get out of the sun... lots of people show up who seem to know medical things like how to hold my head still and they keep asking me simple questions. Somewhere in here I figure out that things aren't quite normal (why is it so hard to think?) and I'm probably not going to get to get back on my bike, and all of my energy goes into trying to stay conscious so I can breathe, because I'm quite convinced at this point that if I black out, the pain will stop me from getting enough air.

I think that somewhere in there, another B2B rider who was an MD of some type helped out. I recall a feeling of relief - not sure why. Among other things, she figured out that I had a RoadID on my wrist, so she called my wife to tell her there was a problem. That connection was bad, but Michele started getting ready to drive north. Dave called her back minutes later to fill in the details.

Pretty soon, the ambulance showed up. They got me on something stiff and moved me into the ambulance. I was still pretty much just concentrating on staying conscious, but I wanted to make sure someone would get my bike! Yeah yeah, relax r'm, we got that covered...

In the ambulance, I remember a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing is that they hit me with pain meds, and that made it slightly possible to do something other than focus everything I had on breathing. The bad thing is that they had to cut my jersey and part of my bibs off. Sigh. At least I bought two this year.

They were pretty worried I'd broken my back, so put me in a neck brace. After a short and bumpy trip, I was in the ER in Keene Hospital. From there on, I'll spare you the details. X-rays, CT scans, more X-rays. It was a very good ER, with incredibly friendly and helpful staff.

The RoadID came in handy a few more times when checking in and answering questions. Big win.

Ian showed up shortly after I was admitted. It was so, so good to see him. Between the crash and the pain meds, I wasn't in much control, so I have no idea what we talked about, but I do recall urging him to get back to everyone else because they needed his help, and him telling me to quit being ridiculous.

My wife and father showed up pretty quickly. It was great to see them too. Ian passed along some information, left my bag, and went to see how everyone else was faring in the heat.

By about 5pm, I had been diagnosed with: 2 broken ribs (left side), left clavicle fractured in 3 spots, slightly collapsed lung, and dozens of spots of road rash from head to calf. No broken back. Concern about concussion, but no sign of it.

The doctor in charge thanked me about 3 times for wearing a helmet. He was pretty clear about what shape I would have been without it. Dead or paralyzed. Probably dead.

Hmm.

We headed home... I was happy to be able to move and bummed not to be riding. I shot a note to the other B2Bers with a quick update to let them know I was more or less ok.

Reflections

This event has left me chewing on about many different trains of thought, none of which have quite settled. I'm depressed about the upcoming events that I will miss as I heal - family stuff, backpacking outings, and bike rides. My goal at this point is to be back in shape for riding in time for the Pan-Mass. I'm thankful for the support and camaraderie of the Monsters, many of whom have called or emailed to check on me, fill in details, and share similar stories.

I've also spent a bit of time thinking about that thin little knife edge between life and mortality. If I get my head wrapped around this, it may be its own blog at some point.

If I had handled that little handlebar bobble in a very slightly different way, this email would just be ending with me talking about how damn hot it was at the end and counting the miles I rode with cramps. And I never would have thought about that part of the ride again. But how many other bobbles were there yesterday that were almost-accidents? Conversely - if it had worked out ever so slightly differently in the other direction, I wouldn't be typing this. At all. Should that scare me? It doesn't really. I won't be doing the stupid hand-held camera thing again - and maybe I won't text while driving either, now, because that feels sort of similar... but it doesn't make me want to stop biking, and I don't think it even makes me more paranoid in general. Maybe it should.. I don't know yet. But that feeling of "it could all be over in a second, at any second, completely when you're not expecting it"... for me that's moved from an intellectual understanding to an emotional understanding, at least for now. Which just makes me appreciate everything all the more.