I hope my novella makes the cut… or should that be scrape…?

2018, only a week away from my first Alpine cycling holiday and really looking forward to it, along with plenty of training and even shifting some mass. Down to 75kg, enough weight loss for people to notice but not enough to actually lose the belly or love handles.

My daughter was at cycle training at the local country park. As usual, I drove her there then dropped the car home before riding back up to collect her (and sneak a few kms of singletrack action in first). It was an incredibly dry May and early June that year in the Central Belt of Scotland and I blame this for my accident…

I headed into my usual first descent, where I like to clear the small set of steps out of the car park. Cleared easily! Maybe too easily as I seemed to have landed almost beyond the path with my front wheel touching down right on the edge of the soft, dry dirt and the soft, dry, loose gravel. “It’s ok, I’ll turn the bars and correct the angle of the bike, just as my back wheel is coming to the ground.”

All the above did happen just as I said, except for one small point. My front wheel washed out on landing and my bike slid away from under me, leaving my bare arm to act as my brake and using gravel as the abrasive medium.

What a mess I was. I got plenty of sympathy from the nurses, friends, colleagues and even strangers, but not much from the wife, probably because she’d seen me do similar over an extended period of time and also thought that recently turning 40, I should know better. I had to have it dressed multiple times before I went away. I was told I’d need to dress it afresh every day while I was on holiday and not get it wet or expose it to the sun.

Well, that put an end to my fun first day of the holiday on the shore of Lake Annecy. My friends kindly waved to me from the beautiful azure waters as they swam in glorious sunny conditions. It was ok, someone had to look after their stuff and ensure the beers were kept in the shade. Last day of our holiday and my arm was a lot better, so we had a quick detour heading back to Geneva Airport for a swim I could join in with. Happy times, and the scarring is almost unnoticeable.

didnthurt (ironically as it bloody did)

Very silly injury…

Went OTB at about four miles an hour. Not a scratch, got back on the bike, rode ten feet, did the same thing. I was on an overgrown trail that you couldn’t see. I’d ridden it loads… then it rained and got washed out…

Spiral fracture of my thumb. Still sore years later. Though that might have to do with just taping it up and doing an MNPR* up Pendle Hill… racing cycle speedway with MNPR, and riding Northern Grip. Biggest issue was the dropper post.

Duncan Smith

*Monday Night Pub Ride. A regular ride originally organised via the forum.

Back in the day, I worked as a radiographer at a university teaching hospital. I cycled to work each day. One morning I mis-anticipated the movement of a car in front of me and tapped its rear with my front wheel just as it pulled away. This sudden wheel stop and removal of the obstacle sent me right over the bars. Bang! On my back on the ground.

I quickly got up. Picked up my bike. And then got out of the way of the traffic and moved to the side of the road. I just felt a bit bashed/bruised on my shoulder and elbows. When I tried to get back on the bike and ride, it was clear I’d done a bit more than bruising. My left arm would take no weight – ouch! My right one similarly. I ran my right hand over my left shoulder and found my clavicle was no longer smooth and sweeping. Lumpy and jagged. Thankfully still under the skin.

I began the 3km walk to work. Made it. Locked the bike up. Wandered into the imaging department. Made my excuses to my boss and then walked back out and into A&E. Friends then zapped me and it became obvious I wouldn’t be back at work that day with my fractured clavicle and non-displaced fractures of both my radial heads. A cycling radiology friend said: “Typical cycling injuries from going OTB in the ‘cheer’ posture (arms raised).” Pesky!

Toileting, dressing, showering, and most other activities of daily living are an extra challenge when you’ve fractured your radial heads and cannot easily and comfortably move your arms for a few weeks.

prettygreenparrot

On a week’s holiday in the Alpujarras we had just completed a 1,000m or so climb and started the descent. I was riding rubbish and decided to pull over to have a break and compose myself. Put my foot down on a loose rock, my knee overextended and damaged the ligaments. Luckily I could freewheel most of the way down and only missed riding the last day.

Goslow

April 2017. End of day one on a three-day Lake District trip we’d been planning for ages. Survived a day of damp rock, aspirational route choices, poorly chosen lines and the odd stack-ette, mostly deciding that big rock would go a lot better by foot. Still feeling pretty good about myself, I winched myself into the back of my mate’s T4 at the exact moment he slammed the door. Where my hand was hanging onto the ‘A’ pillar. The van collective of non-medics assured me it wasn’t broken. I was keen to head to Keswick A&E on Friday night but ‘Stella-rised’ the wound in the bar instead. Couldn’t help noticing my index finger had gone a) floppy from the knuckle and b) black. Taped them together for riding the next day during which my forks exploded. Ignored continuing blackness/droopiness to hire a fat bike for the Borrowdale Bash on the final day. Do remember my hand hurting quite a lot on that trail.

Got home, better half took one look at it, sighed and dispatched me to A&E where I lied and told them I’d done it ‘that morning’. Seven weeks in a splint.

Alex Leigh

I spent a morning some years ago riding with another member of the STW forum just north of Cardiff. After hours spent on the trails, I was exhausted and packed my bike into the back of my old VW T4 Caravelle, then drove to the supermarket to pick up a few things on the way home. Having emerged from the shop, I opened the sliding side door to throw my purchases in the back seat beside the bike, failing to notice the door as it slid along its track before closing on my fingers. In significant pain, I opened the door to remove my fingers but found when I got home that I couldn’t use them to squeeze a brake lever. I ended up having to forego the bike and drive to work instead for the next number of days, thereby betraying my own principles and significantly inconveniencing my wife. My riding companion had already ribbed me for driving to the start of the ride anyway, and it seems he was right. One should not drive a car to a bike ride.

SaxonRider

Walked backwards into a high-level kitchen cabinet while wearing a helmet and a pair of quite expensive sunglasses. The helmet pushed them down and broke them over the bridge of my nose. Which hurt.

Harry the Spider

I had tendonitis all down my right arm, was OK mountain biking as long as I wore a wrist brace. Then the tendon in my right thumb snapped as I went to change channels to Disney for my daughter with the remote.

Scud

Zooming down a typical Clwyds steep descent ending on a bridle path, I opened a fiddly gate with my bike sorta half leaning against my hip. As I stepped forward through the gate I saw a teenage girl leading a very nervous Shetland pony with a toddler balanced on top heading for the gate. My bike then decided it would like to cuddle me. “Hmm, is that hair I can smell burning?” I thought. “No, it’s nothing,” my mind replied, wanting to let the pony get to a safe distance away before I screamed and could unstick my bike from my leg. Extra marks for recognising the brand of rotor!

Russell96

A good few years ago I’d booked a week’s riding with the Potters at AQR in Luchon, flying out Saturday. So, obviously, on Thursday evening after work, I thought I’d grab a last couple of hours in the Quantocks to keep my eye in. I managed to go over the bars on a steep rooty bit and put a hand out to help break my fall.

Ouch ensued.

I was pretty sure I’d done something worse than a sprain to my wrist but (shoddy admin on my part) I hadn’t taken out insurance yet so I thought it would be best not to attend A&E and, therefore, have an (evidential) existing condition. Of course, AQR (like any responsible company would) insisted on riders turning up insured so I took some out. Better safe than sorry, eh? I’m not proud of myself.

Luckily I was hiring a Soul so didn’t have to manoeuvre a bike bag on at Bristol and off at Toulouse so I showed up armed only with a neoprene wrist support and a load of extra strapping to keep the swelling down. I had a great week, it was undoubtedly somewhat tender and I’d have really struggled at Ciclo Montana but AQR was a touch less rock-oriented, so I only actually cried once when I lost the front wheel at about 2mph on a slippy wooden rain bar and had to put my hand down.

Mind you, every evening I slept pumped full of a well-known anti-inflammatory drug with my strapped-up wrist tied high on the headboard to let the swelling go down overnight! I went to A&E on my return and was put in a cast for four weeks with a distal fracture of the radius.

Johnners

While riding The Devil’s Staircase at Pitfichie many moons ago in very dry and dusty conditions – which I’m not used to – I went over the bars. The dust had made the wee stone stairs that go around a bend very slippy and my front wheel slipped and jammed sideways between two of the stones launching me over the bars… Felt like I’d been shot out of a cannon, but I’m sure anyone watching would have no doubt said it wasn’t anywhere near as cool as that. After getting up I found that the only really sore bit was my right thumb as the nail had been pushed back, but that was fine until I tried to change gears. I eventually started prodding the levers with my index finger as my thumb wasn’t enjoying being used.

When I got back to the car I messaged my wife. “I think I’ve broken my granola bar,” or words like that but WhatsApp had shortened it to a preview so it read: “I think I’ve broken my”, which caused a bit of panic as she was expecting ‘arm’ or ‘leg’ to finish the sentence.

She wasn’t pleased. Although now I think back I’m not sure if it was because I hadn’t broken something more important than my snack!

DavieK

The last time I rode without gloves, I’d only gone out to see the sun at golden hour. A little gravel bike pootle at the end of a long day. After what turned out to be an extended moorland meander I made the final turn off a farm track onto the road home – and washed out my front wheel at slow speed. A little cry and a lot of grit in both hands and one knee had me struggling to hold handlebars for a couple of weeks. I swore always to wear gloves again – I’d have been barely scathed had I been wearing them. And I always do wear gloves… except for that one time when I rode in nothing more than a bikini and sandals shortly before a (slightly oozing, very painful) transatlantic flight home… my knee has never quite recovered from that one.

Hannah

Last September, three days before the end of my Spanish holiday adventure, I decided to take a pootle into Salamanca along one of the many ‘greenways’ they have around Spanish cities. Near the end there was a little section of boardwalk off the side of a viewing platform of the Roman bridge so off I went. Literally… The front wheel slipped on the greasy surface and I landed on my left hand on the edge of the boardwalk. It hurt but I could still move my fingers so I set off back to the campsite. No sympathy from my partner but as my hand began to swell she did suggest I went to the hospital. However, we had a ferry to catch the following day so I thought it best to focus on getting back as the pain was bearable. Driving and taking bikes off and on of the bike rack was a bit uncomfortable though. Finally back in Sheffield, I trotted off to the minor injuries unit for an X-ray. The radiologist said “You’ve done a proper job on that!” and packed me off to the hand clinic. Two surgeries later and what looks on an X-ray like a piece of bike chain in the hand, the road (no mountain biking for a good while) to recovery started. Still a bit of discomfort eight months later but at least I am riding bikes off-road! Lesson: avoid family/commuter greenways.

Nick