Sunday 10th July and Round 4 of the Southern XC 2011 race series began like many other races this season - I had arrived in plenty of time to do my usual lengthy warm up and headed out with Mountain Trax team-mate Pete for a practice lap. Legs and head were feeling good, we were chatting about my two upcoming holidays (to Scotland and France) and discussing my recent training schedule with AQR Coaching. We'd sessioned a couple of short sections, tackled a rooty descent and were nearly back at the arena. I was following Pete down a fast grassy descent which I remembered from the preview video had a kicker partway down so I scrubbed off some speed so that I could roll the bike over the upcoming bank. Hang on, I'm in the air; the front end is going down; this isn't going to end well.
Somehow I managed to kick the bike out of the way as I went fully over the bars, landed with some force on my helmet then smacked down to earth, landing partly on my left side in a tucked, foetal position. Three things quickly ran through my mind: ugh, I'm winded - can't breathe; it's ok, I can still feel my feet; OUCH!
Very quickly I was surrounded by people who had seen me go down, checking my back and neck, making sure I was conscious. First aiders were soon on the scene trying to make me more comfortable as my stomach and back muscles had contracted protectively - hurting more than the hip I had landed on and, much to my embarrassment for causing a fuss, an ambulance was on its way. Friends who were also out on the course were soon gathered around looking after me whilst we waited for the help which came in the form of Wiltshire Air Ambulance.
A short helicopter ride later I was in A&E at Salisbury District Hospital whilst some very good friends were rallying round to get my car and bike to the hospital and to collect my boyfriend Dave from the other race 30 miles away where I had dropped him off earlier in the day. A short time later, after being prodded and poked for a while I was sent off for X-rays. The bad news was almost as painful as the accident - a fractured finger and a fractured pelvis.
I was quickly moved up to a very pleasant ward with a view of Salisbury Cathedral where I would stay for the next 6 days with my left leg in skin traction - in other words I was attached to the bed with weights and wasn't going anywhere. CT scans on the Monday revealed that I had a fairly complex acetabular fracture which might require surgery and that recovery would be a long process with an increased likelihood of needing a hip replacement in the future thrown in for good measure. Really not what I had planned.
Unfortunately, there weren't any pelvic experts at Salisbury District, so there was a 3 day wait whilst my files were sent to Southampton General for review. By the Thursday I knew I would be moving to Southampton for surgery at the weekend - by this time I had not left the bed for 5 days, had read several books and eaten quite a few hospital meals. Luckily my fellow residents were good fun and we were keeping each other in good spirits. I had visits everyday from family and friends and was keeping in touch with many other people by email.
On Friday afternoon I was bundled up like a mummy to keep my pelvis together, moved to a stretcher and taken by ambulance to Southampton. After a very sleepless night in a geriatric ward (the only place there was a bed available!) I was shipped off to surgery on Saturday lunchtime to have my pelvis pinned and plated back together. Coming round in Recovery I thought I was back in Salisbury and that I was lying on my side!; I was however still in Southampton, on my back and numb from the waist down with an epidural drip to keep the pain at bay.
The epidural was removed on the Sunday morning - but it took 6 hours to wear off, at which point my left leg (bad side) went into muscle spasm and my right into cramp. Not good. I cried - this was my lowest point so far. Drugs made it better.
By the Monday (day 8) I was back in CT to check my newly acquired scaffolding was holding in place and wouldn't require another surgery - good news at last, my surgeon was happy that the bones were stable despite the complexity of the fracture. I would be 'touch weight bearing' for 6 - 12 weeks on crutches - that meant I could stand on my good leg and put down the toe of my bad leg but not really put any weight through it. Tuesday: I got out of bed for the first time in 9 days - I made it as far as the chair next to my bed without fainting - that was enough. Wednesday: I got out of bed, walked with a zimmerframe out of the ward and partway down the corridor. It felt like more effort than a 12 hour race. Thursday (my 12th day in hospital): I tried crutches, learnt how to get up and down stairs and in and out of chairs, I got to go home!
Adjusting to life back at home was harder than nearly two weeks in hospital. I was tired, moving about the house was difficult with crutches, my back was hurting, every normal thing was ten times harder than normal and I was finding it difficult to sleep through the night.
But with encouragement and support from everyone around me (especially Dave and my parents) and a touch of gritty determination, every day there was a little bit of progress. The first time I lifted my leg onto the bed without the aid of an inner tube (endless uses beyond the usual!); the first time I put my own socks and shoes on; the first time I 'walked' to the doctor's surgery rather than being pushed in a wheelchair.
I spent a lot of time over the next 3 weeks sleeping, watching biking DVDs and catching up with friends - interspersed with visits to the doctor and physio. Four weeks after my surgery I was back in Southampton seeing my surgeon, expecting a quick check up but two x-rays later I was told to start weight-bearing!
Seeing my physio a week later I was allowed back on the turbo - finally a chance to do some aerobic exercise and one step closer to riding properly. Plus I was down to just one crutch which made getting around a lot easier and I was also back at work full time which mentally made things a lot easier.
Last week was the biggest step yet - 11 weeks after my accident, the physio gave me the green light to ride outside. After collecting my newly built up 'rehab bicycle' (my Cotic Roadrat complete with 26" wheels, cross tyres and disc brakes) from Mountain Trax I ventured outside to ride around the village where I live. Big grins all round :-D
Riding outside for the first time in 11 weeks - big grin compulsory
Nearly 3 months have passed since I crashed; my race season was over, 3 months of hard training was gone in an instant, I had to miss two holidays, have 6 weeks off work and experience a whole range of emotions and challenges along the way but I'm still going and more determined than ever. This weekend was my birthday - to celebrate I rode for over an hour on easy fireroads with friends including a few climbs. Compared with this time last year, that would seem like nothing. Compared with this time 12 weeks ago - it's everything.
I'm already working with my coach Kate on my plans for 2012 and this weekend I entered the 12 hour solo at 24:12 next July. I've got 9 months to find my race legs and coax my race-face out of the cupboard where it is cowering in the corner. As far as I'm concerned - challenge accepted!