Well Saturday’s here and what are we about, off for a swim in training for the City triathlon, bike race in Essex with Nick …..errrr …. No. Off to see the doctor to have my arm stringed after my fall in my last bicycle race.
As my dear friend Renato will tell you I have failed to complete any mountain bike race I have ever entered. True however I have only entered two.
The first race was the Cape Epic an 800km race which is billed as the toughest mountain bike race in the world. During the 8 days you will have climbed the equivalent of Mount Everest TWICE. If you follow the link you can hear and see what Transport World Sport has to say on the race.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qt-Zos4GXm0&feature=PlayList&p=35AE346B1AE2877F&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=49
The photo was on the morning of the start of the Cape Epic. Unfortunately Simon and my race tactics of keeping at the back and out of the way backfired, and after 9.5hrs and 117km we missed the cut by 10mins.
It was our own fault, we were very nervous and decided to keep out of the way during the first day. We signed autographs shook hand with spectators and generally had a very nice time. Simon and I both fell off our bikes three times, I broke a finger in the first 10km after somersaulting over the handlebars.
The last fall I had was when I was in a 25km fun race in Stanford still in South Africa, I was 21km into the race coming second when another rider caught and past me. Not one to go down without a fight, I tucked nicely in behind him thinking he must be spent and if he wasn’t yet he sure as would be in that he had to carry me for the next 3km until we hit tarmac.
So in I sat 2 inches (that’s 50mm for those of you with that persuasion) behind his back wheel allowing him to carry me. We were speeding along (35km/hr) a flat dirt road called Wortelgut (translated means carrot hole – where do they get these names?) which is where I was living in Stanford and had just passed my house when our wheels touched. I remember apologising, thinking maybe I was a little too close and the next thing, I was sitting in the Art Café with Mr Miles having a beer, by which time it was noon.
So piecing the story together it would appear that the other rider and I collided and we both fell off our bikes. He fell and as far as I know he was not hurt. I on the other hand, landed on my head, I know this, as my helmet had been smashed, thus knocking me out. I also landed on my right hand side, I know this, as this is where the scares which I will carry for life, are. However on top of the damage the dirt road did to my skin, (should mountain bike racers be forced to wear leathers?) I also landed on my shoulder breaking my collar bone and on my elbow, which is where the swelling is and why instead of a 75 mile race around Essex, I have to go off to the doctors to have my elbow syringed.
Further and this is the interesting bit, as the other rider could not find a pulse or a heartbeat, he began CPR (that’s mouth to mouth resuscitation). This incident has given me a whole new outlook on what’s important in life and what’s not. It also gives a different perspective on the term “I’m going to win if it kills me”
Did I die on the 22nd May, when the medics arrived I was breathing again, did the other rider save my life? I don’t know the answers to these questions however it has allowed me to start life a fresh without the hindrance of past guilt over the things I have done and the things I didn’t do, and we all have a few scarecrows in the closet. And I have more than most!
I think its one for the grandchildren – if I live to see them!
As my dear friend Renato will tell you I have failed to complete any mountain bike race I have ever entered. True however I have only entered two.
The first race was the Cape Epic an 800km race which is billed as the toughest mountain bike race in the world. During the 8 days you will have climbed the equivalent of Mount Everest TWICE. If you follow the link you can hear and see what Transport World Sport has to say on the race.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qt-Zos4GXm0&feature=PlayList&p=35AE346B1AE2877F&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=49
The photo was on the morning of the start of the Cape Epic. Unfortunately Simon and my race tactics of keeping at the back and out of the way backfired, and after 9.5hrs and 117km we missed the cut by 10mins.
It was our own fault, we were very nervous and decided to keep out of the way during the first day. We signed autographs shook hand with spectators and generally had a very nice time. Simon and I both fell off our bikes three times, I broke a finger in the first 10km after somersaulting over the handlebars.
The last fall I had was when I was in a 25km fun race in Stanford still in South Africa, I was 21km into the race coming second when another rider caught and past me. Not one to go down without a fight, I tucked nicely in behind him thinking he must be spent and if he wasn’t yet he sure as would be in that he had to carry me for the next 3km until we hit tarmac.
So in I sat 2 inches (that’s 50mm for those of you with that persuasion) behind his back wheel allowing him to carry me. We were speeding along (35km/hr) a flat dirt road called Wortelgut (translated means carrot hole – where do they get these names?) which is where I was living in Stanford and had just passed my house when our wheels touched. I remember apologising, thinking maybe I was a little too close and the next thing, I was sitting in the Art Café with Mr Miles having a beer, by which time it was noon.
So piecing the story together it would appear that the other rider and I collided and we both fell off our bikes. He fell and as far as I know he was not hurt. I on the other hand, landed on my head, I know this, as my helmet had been smashed, thus knocking me out. I also landed on my right hand side, I know this, as this is where the scares which I will carry for life, are. However on top of the damage the dirt road did to my skin, (should mountain bike racers be forced to wear leathers?) I also landed on my shoulder breaking my collar bone and on my elbow, which is where the swelling is and why instead of a 75 mile race around Essex, I have to go off to the doctors to have my elbow syringed.
Further and this is the interesting bit, as the other rider could not find a pulse or a heartbeat, he began CPR (that’s mouth to mouth resuscitation). This incident has given me a whole new outlook on what’s important in life and what’s not. It also gives a different perspective on the term “I’m going to win if it kills me”
Did I die on the 22nd May, when the medics arrived I was breathing again, did the other rider save my life? I don’t know the answers to these questions however it has allowed me to start life a fresh without the hindrance of past guilt over the things I have done and the things I didn’t do, and we all have a few scarecrows in the closet. And I have more than most!
I think its one for the grandchildren – if I live to see them!
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