Oh, Billy BaRue...
This is a big one Billy
Son of a...
I recently returned from my six-week, post-surgery appointment with my surgeon. While he might be a genius, I did not like the words that came out of his stupid, stupid mouth hole.
Essentially, he said, "For guys like you, this is the most dangerous time. You feel great, your flexibility is back, and you're strength has returned. So you want to fly down another mountain."
True, true, true.
And TRUE.
"But," he continued, "if you take a shot to your shoulder right now, it will completely undo everything we just reconnected. And I might not be able to fix it."
Of course, as I was writing this, my roommate from college – plucky rider Brian Mears, who himself had a downhill incident with a tree that wouldn't get out of his way – sent me the following picture. It's the shoulder of a friend of ours who used to ride semi-professionally in Europe.
I'm going to start a bike team
called "The Clavicles"
Clearly, said shoulder has seen better days.
As a highly-respected doctor on the Internet, I can tell you that's a broken shoulder. And that pin. Holy shit, it's a big one. It also looks like the surgeon left a few needles in there.
Rookie.
Hello... hello...hello...
Is there anybody out there?
There'll be no more, "Ahhhhhhh"
...But you may feel a little sick. (Continuation of Pink Floyd lyrics from above, yo.) Especially after I tell you what Cricket, Barb, and I found on a wonderful hike over the weekend.
Cricket started licking something on the trail. After he refused to leave it alone, Barb went to investigate. Turns out, it was a bloody helmet.
Actually, it was a piece of a bloody helmet. I'm hoping the reason the helmet shattered into 50 pieces was because people were riding over it and not because there are helmets out there that explode upon impact.
Based on all this, I keep asking all my friends who ride an important question, "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
Each and every time, the response is laughter. Maniacal laughter. Because if you have a certain disposition, and you experience the hard work of biking up a mountain, followed by the adrenaline rush and exhilaration of flying back down that mountain, you're hooked.
And you're screwed. Pun intended.
Therefore, today's blog post ends with a plea: For the love of god, always wear a helmet!
I don't care where you're riding, for how long, and if there's only a 0.003 level of difficulty, wear a helmet. If you don't, you're an idiot.
I'll still love you, even though you'll most likely be a drooling idiot.
I'll still love you, even though you'll most likely be a drooling idiot.
