After my last post laboriously detailing my broken collarbone I’d just like to say thank you to everyone who has offered their sympathy and support, both publicly and privately. It really is very comforting to hear from you as I face an extended stay off the bike and a reminder of the ‘decent-ness’ of the MTB tribe.
At present I’m reduced to being able to do very little for myself although I’m seeing solid improvements compared to the immediate aftermath. Even so, I’m spending a lot of time staring at the walls running the incident through my mind. Some of my more philosophical companions on the day suggested that at least it was a good source of material for the website, and maybe that will prove to be the case.
In that spirit, allow me to paint you a picture. Imagine a weekend afternoon in your local Surrey Hills A&E department. Around the room is the usual catalogue of misfortune, the sum of Sunday DIY cack-handedness, Saturday night enthusiasm and people who have either stabbed, cut, sliced, punctured, broken or fainted their way into hospital.
And then there’s your local MTB’er, still in his regulation uniform of lightweight, breathable yet windproof shell, a pair of remarkably commodious baggies, knee pads (can’t take any chances) and cycling shoes. He appears to be coated either in a talcum dust of Surrey loam or smeared liberally in North Downs clay depending on the time of year and is sitting hollow eyed in a wheelchair clutching whatever part of his body has taken the biggest impact.
He evens looks as though he may consider mewling softly to himself as a way of passing the time. Occassionally family members and friends accompanying the other unfortunates make a humourous comment to him in an overly familiar way.
On Sunday, that Mountain Biker was me. I wish I had a sign I could have propped up on my lap in order to better respond to people’s comments. This is what it would have said:
- Yes, I fell off my Mountain Bike
- Yes, I am an idiot and old enough to know better
- Yes, it does hurt