After the fall...

 

"After the fall" © Mike Moore Studios 2024

August 19th, 2024. The calendar said it was a Monday, but my gut told me it was a victory lap. Another morning ride, then home for some graphic freelance magic, or maybe diving in to some domestic duty. Routine, right? Wrong. That day, I was cocky. Strutting around like a peacock with a death wish, thinking I was king of the trail. Looking back, I was overconfident, underprepared, and setting myself up for a date with gravity.

It wasn’t even a big jump. Hell, on the scale of extreme, it barely registered—a blip. But let me tell you, no amount of "visualize it, manifest it" was gonna save me when my shoulder met earth like grandma’s old Lincoln and her neighbor’s cat. Yeah, that hurt. Bad.

Fast forward six long weeks. I’ve scrolled through the entirety of the internet at least four times, mountain biking vids on repeat. Normal folks, superhero freaks—they all have something I was dying to get back: freedom on two wheels. Watching those videos? Torture. The real kind. The “you can look but don’t touch” brand of hell.

Yesterday, I went for the six-week follow-up with the doc. Good news? No surgery. But, surgery’s still on the table if I feel like playing mad scientist with my skeleton. Right now, the shoulder’s a little funky—like I could moonlight as the bell ringer at Notre Dame, but it’s not causing trouble. Just hanging out, reminding me it's there. Doc hit me with the “at your age” spiel, but wrapped it up with a casual, “Take it easy out there.”

So today, I took it as easy as I could stand. Eleven miles—part road, part off-road dirt—just a test run. Legs? Still kicking. Lungs? Holding up. Not bad. A few bone-rattling moments made it clear the shoulder isn’t 100% yet, but not in an “oh shit, I’m broken” kind of way. More like a friendly reminder: “We’ll get there, just not today.”

And you know what? Even after those measly 11 miles, I felt like a GAWD! Like I’d shed 50 pounds of funk, frustration, and futility. The comeback is real, and it’s on!

Have Fun!

All fun, til it's not...

Bum Wing © Mike Moore Studios 2024

 Monday (8/19/24), started off pretty good, slept decently and had a ride planned. Got a text from my riding buddy that he'd be able to go after all, day got a little better!

Everything was business as usual from there. Nick got to the house, we tossed everything in my truck, and shoved off, BLORA (Belton Lake Outdoor Recreation Area) bound. I'd ridden the same area Friday, and had been visualizing a way to launch into the trail since. I had had it in my head to try anyway, having a buddy along as a witness to my super heroic feats of daring? Bonus!

Looking back, can't remember exactly if I said what I was gonna try, or that I was just gonna try "something". I cranked off towards the trailhead, rolled over the "fun hump" before, locked onto the entrance, and headed in hot...Too hot!

I'm not even going to try and sell this as some Red Bull XXXtreme Hardline Death-Defying kind of a jump. IT'S NOT. Everything about it is within my skill range...except probably the speed I hit it at, and not being able to adjust to whatever it was that kicked the ass end of my bike all wonky. As soon as I was airborne, I knew it wasn't gonna end well, but didn't have time to finish the thought before I was on the ground.

I didn't get knocked out, but it was close. My old pal, the vasovagal response, was creeping around for sure. I remember being PISSED that I'd a) screwed the jump up, b) screwed the ride up, then c) was a random thought about food or something else completely unrelated to the situation at hand. Probably not great. After 40 years of throwing myself at concrete for fun (skateboarding), I knew I wasn't HURT, but I was definitely hurting. Nick rolled up nearly instantly, I think...the concept of time and clear thinking weren't quite within my reach yet. I remember him asking if I was ok, then urging me to sit down. He told me later I had a death grip squeeze on the rear brake lever and my eyes weren't really focusing, probably not great too. My legs kept trying to convince my brain that we should all just take a minute to catch our breath, and all would be cool...then my shoulder spoke up, "Time to go. NOW!"

Nick drove us back to the house, pretty sure it would've sucked heavily had I attempted it. Thanks for being there, and for being a voice of reason Nick. Sorry we only got a half mile in. Soon as the wing will flap, I'm ready to roll.

A bit later I drove myself to the ER, or as more aptly described, "Satan's Bus Station". The ER is like being trapped in a real life documentary on the deplorable state of healthcare and human services with no way to mute or change the channel. No breaks, sprained, and a self pledge to try to not go back to the ER.

So how was your Monday?

Have Fun!