The Anatomy of a Crash

This past weekend, I didn’t have lady luck on my side. Saturday was a tough day as I was trailing off the back of the 3^rd group on the road, yo-yoing a lot. I was eventually able to get back into the group and get somewhat comfortable, but the universe wasn’t pleased because that was quickly followed by some crossed wheels and a crash. Drew Dillman came across the road to follow an attack and I wasn’t completely aware of it. We came together and locked up, sliding to an almost stop, then got run over by a third participant. Not too bad, I was having a crappy day anyways. I was frustrated, but I was that before the crash.

Sunday wasn’t much better. The high winds made the racing hard, but things were going ok. Skip made a break and I was hanging in to play the teammate card. I wasn’t feeling great, but better than Saturday. We came to the cross wind section and formed an echelon across the road. An IU rider attacked across the tip of the pack and swung across the road to prevent people from catching his wheel. Good move, but he did it a little early, causing a crash on the front of the pack. I basically watch the crash happened 3 wheels up and could do nothing to stop it.

But it gave me a chance to examine the progression of a crash, find some humor and understand it a little better. Hope you enjoy

Step 1: Something isn’t right here

Dead give away a crash is about to happen #dammitAnderson

During the course of a race, especially in a collegiate race, there are a lot of things that happen that make you wonder what the hell people are thinking. A stupid move, an attack; people racing bike are not always very smart, and it’s always worse when they are racing. But every once in a while you see something you can’t describe, but something isn’t right about it. There is something more to it than just stupid, it’s the decay of a human brain, right there in front of you. Get ready, its crash time.

Step 2: The calm before the storm

Before you have time to process anything this whole progression begins. In your mind you’re still drafting the guy in front of you, pedaling hard or just chilling (whatever you were previously doing). But in front of you a tornado is starting to spin up and you’re heading right for it. It might be 2 feet or 10, but either way you’re about to leave Kansas. But enjoy this moment, because things are great. In this moment, you’re not crashing and you just don’t care. You could be completely upside down 3 feet in the air, but you’d still be pedaling in your head enjoying a tough race. But in all likelihood you’re probably flying through the air to a soundtrack of plastic bikes breaking and scraping the ground and you’re about the realize it.

Step 3: The eagle has landed, hard

This is a single moment. It isn’t necessarily the actual moment you hit the deck, but it’s the moment you become aware that you’re fucked. I find it usually is the second time your rag doll body bounces off the pavement. You’re curled up rolling down the road facing backwards and looking at a front wheel right in your grill. Depending on how many times you’ve crashed your realization is different. The first few times I crashed, it was a great big “SHIT!”. But after you’ve tasted tarmac/dirt a few times, it a much cuter “aw darn”.

Step 4: The reaction

So now that you’ve come to the realization that things got pretty serious very quickly, you’re going to react. I wouldn’t say it a conscience action, more an instinctive reaction. Again, the season crasher will likely get the hell off the road/trail and then check the bike and body, in that order. Make sure you’re ok, check those around you and proceed to the next step. But those with less experience will likely just lay there trying to understand why they aren’t on their bike and what is everyone looking at? They are probably looking at you and your bloody body and torn kit. It looks pretty painful and nasty, but you can’t feel it.

Step 5: The Decision

Should you get back in? Well here’s a flow chart:

But the adrenaline is flowing and you don’t have time for flow charts, this is what your brain thinks:

You’ll finish the race and feel tough for doing so. Pat yourself on the back, do it now because later you’ll hate yourself so enjoy it now.

Step 6: After the race, the next day and beyond

At first thing are pretty good. But at some point you’re going to realize that THERE IS BLOOD ON EVERYTHING AND FUCK IT HURTS. Some will make this obvious, others will not. But it’s part of the experience. Clean it up and bandage it up good, it will help later. But it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt now, and it’s going to hurt later. But you race bikes, and you like feeling pain, so there is no problem there. Now get in car and drive home so it dry up. That way when you get up you can rip the scab up and feel more pain. Not enough pain? Good news, when you wake up the next morning, you’re going to feel like you got hit by a truck. Partly because you did, but also because you’ll feel all those little pains you blocked out the day before.

Also you bike is probably a lot more damaged than you though. Look the paint over, or what remains of it. You won’t be selling that bike any time soon. Now it has character, it’s just rustic now. Like a shield with battle scars. At the very least you’ll get to look back at the missing paint and remember how stupid that crash was.

You’ve made it through! A lot of stupid little crashes like this happen often, and learning to deal with them is a part of becoming a racer. I’ve been hit by a few cars, gone down in CX, XCO and on the road pretty hard more time than I care to count. But it doesn’t seem like you really ever get used to it. You learn to get through it quickly by taking good care of yourself and that’s about the best you can do.