i found my Fox Racing beanie this morning. its a throw-back from when i was a hardcore mountainbiker. biking meant the world to me for about 5 years.
then i got glandular fever and had trouble walking let alone riding. i spent 9 months loaded up on painkillers before i could even pedal again. 9 monthes of ego-destroying hell.
you see i made the mistake of basing my entire self-image on my physical prowess as a biker. when i got sick, i got depressed - in a big way. sounds stupid i know.
when i starting biking again i was determined to go hard, a big fuck-you to the disease-gods. so i did a no-breaks run down a local fire-road. but i was way too weak from the fever, i couldnt muscle the bike through the ruts or push the corners properly.
i came off at about 60kmph, a full arial manovure over my bars. i blacked out for a while, and woke up to the delightful sensation of my german shepard prodding my face with her nose. then i did the checkover...
1) find the bike. does it look ok? ::: front wheel is screwed, but its in one piece.
2) flex my back and hips ::: hips hurt like a muthafuka but they move, thankgod i was wearing a camelbak- nothing spinal.
3) lift and bend both legs ::: left leg doesnt have a lot of skin left, and the joint makes lttle clicking noises, but its good enough to walk home on.
4) same for the arms ::: left arm also skinned pretty bad. right arm feels .... funny.
i use my left arm to pull my right arm into view. the underneath of my forearm, below the elbow, is missing.
i look back up the track and notice all the blood soaking into the gravel a couple of metres above me.i start to going into shock, the pine trees become a wonderful shade of lime green. it takes me half an hour to get back to town.
the doctors tell me how lucky i am. the fact that i can move my fingers is, apparantly, a Good Thing. they tell me they can try some reconstructive techniques that will encourage the muscles to regenerate, but that i will never regain full use of my right arm.
ass.
but it still feels good to shove the beanie on, and i realise its part of who i am.
everything has its place...
then i got glandular fever and had trouble walking let alone riding. i spent 9 months loaded up on painkillers before i could even pedal again. 9 monthes of ego-destroying hell.
you see i made the mistake of basing my entire self-image on my physical prowess as a biker. when i got sick, i got depressed - in a big way. sounds stupid i know.
when i starting biking again i was determined to go hard, a big fuck-you to the disease-gods. so i did a no-breaks run down a local fire-road. but i was way too weak from the fever, i couldnt muscle the bike through the ruts or push the corners properly.
i came off at about 60kmph, a full arial manovure over my bars. i blacked out for a while, and woke up to the delightful sensation of my german shepard prodding my face with her nose. then i did the checkover...
1) find the bike. does it look ok? ::: front wheel is screwed, but its in one piece.
2) flex my back and hips ::: hips hurt like a muthafuka but they move, thankgod i was wearing a camelbak- nothing spinal.
3) lift and bend both legs ::: left leg doesnt have a lot of skin left, and the joint makes lttle clicking noises, but its good enough to walk home on.
4) same for the arms ::: left arm also skinned pretty bad. right arm feels .... funny.
i use my left arm to pull my right arm into view. the underneath of my forearm, below the elbow, is missing.
i look back up the track and notice all the blood soaking into the gravel a couple of metres above me.i start to going into shock, the pine trees become a wonderful shade of lime green. it takes me half an hour to get back to town.
the doctors tell me how lucky i am. the fact that i can move my fingers is, apparantly, a Good Thing. they tell me they can try some reconstructive techniques that will encourage the muscles to regenerate, but that i will never regain full use of my right arm.
ass.
but it still feels good to shove the beanie on, and i realise its part of who i am.
everything has its place...
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Glad you liked my trechcoat story.