Sometimes things don’t quite go according to plan. About six weeks ago I had the pleasure of coming off my mountain bike while playing up at Lady Cannings in the Peak District.
It was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining and it was the first time we’d been to Lady Cannings so we weren’t sure what to expect. We parked close to where we thought it was and set off on the bikes.
Luckily it didn’t take long for us to find the start of the trails, and after a friendly conversation with another mountain biker, we set about scoping the first one. The trails themselves, Blue Steel and Cooking on Gas, are man-made, very well designed and built. The first few runs were a little tricky as we didn’t know what was coming up next, where we could put the power down and how much grip we had in the corners. After a few more goes on both trails, we began to get the hang of it and started to get a bit faster and more confident on each run.
I’m sure you can all see where this is going and unfortunately, the above title has more than one meaning and they both apply in this scenario. As with anything you enjoy doing, you just have to do it once more. So we did.
Towards the end of Blue Steel, there is a lovely long sweeping, left-handed berm which exits onto a straight but slightly humped section of track. Now these trails aren’t particularly wide and I’m still not 100% sure what happened, but I think, as I came out of the berm and I started to straighten the bike up, my front tyre must have been on the outside of the track. The next thing I knew is that stopping yourself with your face can sting a little and I’d highly recommend using your brakes instead.
Having just gone over the handlebars, I do remember lying there for a moment, slowly coming to terms with what had just happened. When the next thing I knew, the adrenaline kicked in and I was suddenly up and brushing myself off. Obviously, the first thing I did is make sure the bike is ok. Which, fortunately, it was. I then assessed the damage on me. Firstly the usual, I’d ripped and grazed the skin on my arms and knees. It then dawned on me that I’d hit the ground with my face, so I pulled out my phone and used the camera as a mirror. Oops. As you can imagine my face wasn’t too dissimilar from two-face from the DC world. Ok maybe not that bad, but still felt like it.
I managed to get back on the bike and slowly finish the trail. Luckily I was with someone and not on my own.
He helped to try and clear out some of the grit embedded in my cheek, checked I didn’t have a concussion (he’s so thoughtful) and we made our way back to the car.
Back home, and greeted my fiance with a big grin as I walked down the drive. She noticed the battle wounds and just rolled her eyes and simply said ‘at least you were trying’. We both laughed and I wandered up to the bathroom to finish cleaning all of the grazes.
I thought I’d managed to have a lucky escape but on Monday, after deciding it would be worth getting my cuts and grazes checked out, the doctor noticed my wrist was a tad on the swollen side. It didn’t hurt much, I thought I’d just sprained it. Unfortunately, after a few x-rays, it revealed a hairline fracture of my scaphoid. My first broken bone!
Six weeks later, I’m finally back on the bike, well, road bike, I don’t think my wrist is strong enough yet to take the battering when out on the mountain bike. Still, there is a silver lining, I get to choose a new helmet!
Until next time.