Take the Damn Painkillers
In spite of what they say about drugs and cycling, most of us really aren’t pill poppers. Call me old fashioned, but I tend to think that most ailments and injuries can be managed with sleep, drinking plenty of water and a nice epsom salt bath. A serious crash, however, is next level stuff, and a bath isn’t going to cut it.
There are times to be macho about pain, but this isn’t one of them.
It’s time to listen to your doctor and pull out the big guns. Whatever they give you—T3s, morphine, codeine—take it and do so responsibly, which means within reason, when needed and certainly before sleep. There are times to be macho about pain, but this isn’t one of them.
Don’t Disconnect
Even a pity party needs a kick-ass guest list. After my crash I began to realize how much of my social life revolved around my spandex-clad riding buddies. Sure, we spent half our time trying to kill each other on our bikes, but the other half was spent in congenial discussions about our greatness (or lack thereof) over caffeinated or alcoholic beverages.
Being unable to ride also meant I was isolated from my best friends. So I made a point of connecting with people. I hosted one-armed dinner parties, showed up to post-ride festivities and even connected with non-bike friends, whose former suspicions about my sanity were now firmly validated.
Look Away
Once I was able to sit on my trainer, I naturally posted my first workout to Strava. My 15 minutes at 85 watts was a feat of sheer greatness that surely needed to be shared with the world.
While I was logged in, I discovered to my horror that my so-called “friends” were continuing to ride without me. They posted pictures of themselves smiling in the sunshine, enjoying long afternoon rides, doing hill intervals and generally carrying on in a most insensitive manner. To add insult to injury, people were stealing my crowns. Deflated, I decided Netflix would be a far better place for me than Strava until I was well.
Spoil Yourself
Although it may be tempting to drown your sorrows in a calming cocktail of T3s and cosmopolitans, trust me, it’s a bad idea. The good news is that there are plenty of other ways to make yourself feel better, without channeling your inner Lindsay Lohan or Charlie Sheen.
Massages may not be in the cards if you are still sore, scabby or broken, but treating the non-injured parts of your body will make you feel like a million bucks. Not being able to wash my own hair with any degree of effectiveness, I booked myself for weekly washes and blow-dries at a local hair salon. Pedicures also helped—and never underestimate the healing properties of some high quality dark Swiss chocolate.
Without a riding and training schedule, my life quickly and pleasantly became an unstructured blur of eating, sleeping and true crime shows.
Make a Recovery Training Plan
Without a riding and training schedule, my life quickly and pleasantly became an unstructured blur of eating, sleeping and true crime shows. I worked when I could, went to appointments and otherwise descended into a world of sloth and lethargy.
I needed a plan.
I started to fill my training schedule—which before had consisted of interval sessions, long rides, races, gran fondos and trips to exotic riding locations—with physiotherapy sessions, massages, yoga and dog walks. Looking at my full calendar not only made me feel fit and productive but also helped justify the massive quantities of Swiss chocolate I was consuming.
Have Goals
We are all motivated by different things. Many of us, myself included, are motivated by numbers. When I started getting back on the trainer, as dismal as my numbers were, I focused on increasing them every time I rode. At the physiotherapist, every degree my range of motion increased was cause for celebration. Numbers measured my progress better than someone asking “how are you feeling?” for the umpteenth time—which, if anyone asked, was generally pretty crappy.
Other, non-numeric goals included: flossing my teeth, washing my hair (with two hands), putting in earrings and fastening my own bra. The day I finally had the range and dexterity to fasten those stupid clasps behind my back was the best day in the history of everything. You’d have thought I cured cancer.
Make it fun, not fast. For once in your life you have a legitimate excuse to suck, and you should milk it for all it’s worth.
Ease Back In
Your body and mind have taken a beating. Signing up for the local hammerhead criterium might not be the best place to start. As you ease back into things, go for some leisurely rides with a small group of riding buddies. Make it fun, not fast. For once in your life you have a legitimate excuse to suck, and you should milk it for all it’s worth. You are on a bike again—that alone makes you a freaking rock star.
Breathe and Be Patient
You will get through this, I promise.
Slowly but surely, after hours of physiotherapy, buckets of painkillers and plenty of questions about whether I could or would even want to ride again, I started to feel normal. I am now back on my bike and continuing down the path of recovery with the ultimate goals of health, strength and balance… and destroying my best friends on the sprint to the overpass.
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