Annoyingly, this didn’t go to plan either.
A ride across the length of the South Downs way had been in the calendar for a long time, for an arbitrary date in the summer, when the weather was hopefully good.
Rain in the week leading up to the ride wasn’t doing much for my enthusiasm. But there I was, on the afternoon before, leaving a party, to get the train down to Winchester and stay in a Premier Inn. The journey down was uneventful, with an unusual amount of space available on the train. The only hiccup was having forgotten the little red light that plugs into my Exposure helmet light (the only light I brought with me, as I had no plans to ride in the dark), no worries, I thought as I dug out my backup lights...
I have since replaced the batteries in the backup lights, having had to juggle the batteries around to have enough light to ride the five minutes to the hotel in relative safety.
All that was left having arrived at the Premier Inn was a late night walk to the local supermarket to get dinner and snacks for the ride and then bed.
I was glad to have ridden the route before, as the start of it, heading out of Winchester is a little windy. But soon I was out of the city streets and into the countryside.
The route ahead seemed a little intimidating, having taken three days to ride it last time, though my bike was much lighter now. Progress was good and the weather was pretty much spot on on the day.
I was thoroughly enjoying myself, proper Type 1 fun, while also looking forward to the Type 2 fun that would likely appear later in the ride.
That was until I found myself laying on the floor, tangled with my bike, my entire left side complaining.
About 30km in to my 160km ride my front wheel slid out unexpectedly while going fast down a bridleway and I hit the floor hard.
With much groaning and grunting I freed myself from my bike and began to get up. A runner came down the trail as I was getting up and it was about all I could do to say “please stay with me”, I think I was worried about losing consciousness again.
They stayed with me as I sorted myself out a bit, and took some convincing that I was now fine to be left alone. They explained that they were turning around soon and would be back to check on me.
With a fair amount of effort I got going. My head pretty foggy and with something clearly wrong with my shoulder. I weighed up my options:
- Shake it off and keep going.
- Call for help and wait.
- Find the nearest train station and limp home.
It quickly became clear that continuing was not a good idea. I could ride, but gingerly and with a fair amount of discomfort and quite a headache.
I decided that I could get myself home. So, I found the nearest station and made my way there with much grunting, groaning, huffing & puffing. I did get quite a few quizzical looks, but to the extent I cared (little), I figured the mud caking my whole left hand side would explain things.
While coasting along a quiet country lane I rang my wife. “Are you okay?” was her opening line, as usual, “I’ve fallen off my bike and I’m in quite a lot of pain, but I’m mostly okay. I’m riding to the nearest station and I’ll be coming home early”.
I shuffled into a local hospital on the way to the train station, got the impression it would be a long wait, weighed up how bad I was feeling and decided I’d try and make some forward progress instead.
The train journey was frustratingly busy, so much so that the train guard got me to move myself and my bike most of the way down the train a few stations after getting on. He said he’d make the train wait, and oh boy did it have to wait as I limped down the platform.
“I can pick you up from the station?”
“It’ll be easier to ride”
“…”
Eventually I made it home. The pain having now spread around and settled in. Luckily we had family over who could stay and provide childcare while me and Nikki went to the hospital – to the surprise of Nikki and my mum, I didn’t need encouragement to get checked out this time.
I spoke to a few different staff, got an x-ray on my shoulder, worried the doctor when I said I had fluid dripping out my nose (it worried me a fair amount when it happened and when I Googled what it was while waiting for the train – essentially, brain fluid), but he became less worried when I said it didn’t last very long, which was comforting.
Some jargon later and I left the hospital having an answer that yes, something specific was wrong my shoulder. I later worked out that it was an AC subluxation/separation – basically, top of the shoulder was less together than it should be and it would take a while to heal.
It’s now about three weeks since coming off and I’m back on my bike, around town doing easy rides. Sleeping was pretty uncomfortable at first, as was sitting, standing, moving and not moving.
I decided to be boringly sensible and postpone my two week bike trip up through Wales, which I should now be a few days into. Riding for about 10 days, all day, only a couple of weeks after hitting the floor that hard didn’t seem like a recipe for a great time and anyway, I’ve only just sorted out a new helmet.
My knee, wrist and shoulder are still getting back to how they were before falling off but overall I feel like I got off lightly. I’m glad to be back on my bike again and am looking forward to a couple of events coming up.
I’m yet to check my bike for damage, but given that it survived the hour ride to the station afterwards it can’t be too bad 🤞🏻.