In Praise of Bike Helmets

I woke up in an ambulance, EMTs fussing over me, asking me questions. What's your name? What's your phone number? I got them right; they could check from the information on my Road ID band. I could wiggle my fingers and feet, but I couldn't move my head; I realized I was strapped tightly to a backboard, a wide band around my forehead, pressing down on my Headsweats bandanna.

One of the EMTs said I'd crashed on my bike. Something about a dog hitting me. Couldn't remember a thing, but I thought of the race in which Marco Pantani broke his leg after hitting a black cat on a descent. Good long-term memory, no memory of the crash; I had a concussion. My left shoulder hurt, and I had a deep ache in my sternum. I could see blood on my stiffening right thumb. He said my bike was OK; they were taking it to their fire station where it would be safe until we picked it up. They were taking me to Kootenai Medical Center in Coeur d'Alene.

I remembered thinking it was a beautiful morning: temperature in the upper 60s, sunny, calm. I remember passing two fit young women on road bikes, feeling good, finally having adjusted to my new Specialized Toupe saddle. I'd been riding along the Centennial Trail from Stateline toward Spokane, and I think I remember riding along the lower section down by the Spokane River, but I don't remember how far I'd gotten. An EMT told me I'd crashed down by Mirabeau Park, and that someone there who saw the crash called 911 - and mentioned the dog. I wonder what kind of dog it was, and why it hadn't been on a leash.

The trip to the hospital didn't seem to take as long as it should have. Maybe I slept, but the EMTs probably kept me awake. Maybe I just don't remember.

Karen, my wife, met me at the emergency room. She said I'd called her on my cell phone. I don't remember calling her. I had a CT of my head and neck. No damage to them, but I'd broken my left 1st rib, just below the neck. Lucky. A second CT of my torso. No internal damage. Lots of soreness; Hydrocodone every four hours.

Time passed as the doctors and nurses worked efficiently, but carefully. The trauma had pushed up my blood sugar (insulin pump survived intact), so no food. Full bladder from drinking Gatorade on the road. Needed a catheter; nurse had to cut the straps on my bib shorts to remove them. Castellis. Still have a few pair.

Yesterday evening, my stepson, Donovan, picked up my bike at the fire station. Haven't seen it yet; he hung it up in the garage. It's a Davidson titanium, so the frame should be OK. When I feel up to it, I'll give it a good examination and see if anything needs to be replaced.

I did have to replace my helmet. There's a dent in the left front of the shell, and a crack all the way through the EPS foam liner of my Giro Ionos.

This is the second time a Giro helmet has saved me from serious injury. When I lived in Laramie, a driver turned left in front of me. I rode into the right side of her car, smashing her windshield with my Giro Ventoux. The sun was behind me, she said, and she didn't see me. The impact blew me out of the pedals, killed my bike, and left windshield glass embedded in my helmet and neck. I still have the scarring in my neck, but the helmet went back to Giro under their now-discontinued crash replacement program.

I honestly don't understand bicyclists and motorcyclists who refuse to wear helmets - too hot, too uncomfortable, restrict vision, like the feeling of the wind in my hair. My advice: get a helmet and wear it. They work. I ordered a new Giro Atmos this morning. Should be here by the time I can get back on the bike. I don't have Tyler Hamilton's pain threshold. Then again, I don't have his history of performance-enhancing drug use.

Slept last night in the living room recliner, no lights, no sound, no computer, no books, no cats to fight for position on the bed. Let your brain rest all day, the ER doctor said. Brain feels OK, but I'll  let readers of this blog decide how OK I really am.

2013 Tour de Cure is History - So are Chainrings

My Jersey Number

Back from the 2013 American Diabetes Association Spokane Tour de Cure, and it was fun again this year. But, not without hiccups, all of my own doing.

Me! Wearing the 2013 TdC Jersey

Props to Ted Duncan and his volunteers for organizing a good event. Plenty of parking at the Dwight Merkel Sports Complex - part of Spokane Parks and Recreation (pay attention Ms. Knope!), pre-ride snacks, a special tent for Red Riders (those of us with diabetes), and the promise of a post-ride lunch. Didn't get in enough miles this cold and rainy spring to do the 50-mile route, so settled for the 20 (more on that later). The hilly ride, with about 600 feet of climbing, ran mostly along the Spokane River, partly on the Centennial Trail, partly along good paved roads.

On the second climb, I dropped my chain and had to stop. First hiccup. I'd had some signs of wear on my old Campagnolo 9-speed chainrings, and they're just about impossible to replace with original equipment. So, I bought some French TA rings sized for Campy. However, unlike Campy rings, the TAs don't have a forged pin to prevent chain drop; instead, they have a screw-on pin using a torx bolt. One one of my rides, apparently, the pin fell out and was missing when I shifted down to the small chainring on that second climb. While I put the chain back on the ring, I was passed by about five riders. I caught two on later climbs, and had a third in my sights on a flat stretch, in the big chainring, down in the drops, when he just disappeared.

Everyone Got a Public Address Greeting

When I came to a familiar on-ramp, I realized I'd missed a route sign for a turn. I doubled back and - since it was a ride, not a race - took my time riding back to Dwight Merkel. Added about five miles to my ride, but that's OK. I crossed the finish line to applause and cow bells, and the announcement of my name by the public address gal (OK, everyone got the same enthusiastic greeting).







Since my blood sugar was in my zone, I treated myself to lunch (pulled pork and cole slaw on a bun, with Diet Coke, courtesy of American Deli), a session in the portable photo booth (my new Facebook profile shot), and a neck and shoulders massage, courtesy of Inland Massage Institute; I think I proposed to the masseuse.

Don't Try This at Home

Lots of riders, some seasoned veterans, some young and just starting out. This guy was my favorite, and not just because I looked like him at his age. This is the second year this young Red Rider piloted his unicycle along the 2.5 mile loop. Looking forward to the day he rides with us geezers on two wheels.

Tour de Cure

This has been a tough winter for cycling. Rain, snow, slush, and yesterday more snow. That's the way it's been here in northern Idaho the past couple of winters. Just a day on the bike now and then - with enough layers and winter gear to still feel my fingers and toes by the end of the ride. My motivation is, to put it mildly, low.

But a couple of weeks ago, while visiting my diabetes counselor, I saw a poster for the Tour de Cure, scheduled for May 20. According to the American Diabetes Association, more than 50,000 riders will be on their bikes to raise money and awareness for research toward a cure for diabetes. Now I had my motivation.

I became a Type 1 diabetic in summer 2010 after two years of trying to figure out what was going wrong with my pancreas. A pancreatic pseudocyst in 2008 that burst while being drained (followed by sepsis); a diagnosis of organized pancreatic necrosis from Virginia Mason Clinic in Seattle, accompanied by three drains and stents; and finally a full Whipple procedure in July 2010 after a series of blackouts from severe anemia and blood loss. Every now and then I run into someone who knows what a Whipple is, and congratulates me on being alive. During 8 hours on the operating table, my surgeon, Ed Detar, removed my spleen, pancreas and 2/3 of my stomach, and rerouted various vital organs. Instant diabetic. Fortunately, my years of cycling had given my heart and lungs the strength to survive the surgery, though Dr. Detar said he nearly lost me four times during the procedure.

I got back to cycling as soon as I could, riding the Centennial Trail east to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho and west toward Spokane, Washington, and hitting the winding, undulating back roads behind Liberty Lake, Washington. Though with a break to have a couple of bile duct stents removed to treat jaundice and early sepsis from bacterial backup into my blood system.

So, I now have a goal - the Tour de Cure. Part of the deal is helping to raise funds in support of the ADA. I've never liked asking people for money, but now I'm invested in diabetes. I posted information about the TdC on my Facebook page and e-mailed some folk in my contact list. To my surprise and delight, more than $850 has been contributed by my friends from New Jersey, Wyoming, Idaho, and Washington. Thanks, guys. As soon as this current snowfall clears, I'll be on the road training for the 2012 Spokane Tour de Cure.