There are no excuses. It was early. I hadn’t had coffee. It was dark. A raccoon shot out in front of me, and I swerved without thinking. I hit a curb I hadn’t seen coming, and because my weight was forward from the reaction and the swerve the bike’s suspension was pressed down and couldn’t absorb it. The back wheel went up in the air, and all of a sudden I found myself launched over the bars in a classic superman pose above a very hard landing on concrete.
It was about as much fun as you’d expect. My left knee and elbow took the impact directly, shredding the top layers of skin on the elbow and blackening the kneecap. My right shin landed on the lip of the curb, bruising it down to the bone. My right arm took an awkward impact that saved the skin, but damaged muscles right through my neck and shoulder.
As is often my first reaction after accidents, I stood up. Then I sat right back down again when I realised how much my legs hurt. I let things sink in for a little while, then got back on my bike and trundled painfully onwards. It probably wasn’t the smartest decision, but no-one was coming to get me and I was aware that I needed to use the adrenalin while I could. A few hours on, reality had sunk in and I left the bike at work for the night.
My physiotherapist is on the case, and I hope I’ll be back to normal soon. In the meantime I have strong painkillers, and a lot of practice to draw on.