At the Hospital

Getting to the hospital, we surveyed what we might need inside and wished we hadn't just cleaned out the car. The pavement was hot in socks, and there was a sweaty musk in my bike shorts and gear. The phone call came right as the group ride back was starting on bike-to-work Monday. Cleats were tossed aside by the bike and all attention was set to getting to the hospital.

His dad arrived first and was with him in the imaging room getting a CT scan. Grandpa arrived next, hugging my other two children close and then saying a prayer while we waited. Finally, the doors opened and the ER nurse called our family back to the room.

My sweet baby boy writhed in agony. We all stared at him trying to decide who was in more shock, him or us. The only comfort I could provide was consent to treat. He swelled in pain and retreated under narcotic effect. The pain came in ripples and tidal waves.  He would pant or breath hold and we knew it was rough, but he was on top of it. Other times, he would lay back and disappear, floating just above himself, discovering savasana. 

Every move - ice chips, IV, pillow fluff - caused pain. A second scan for head and neck injury meant he had to keep the neck brace in place. This is really painful when your collarbone is shattered. Hours later, they splinted his leg, broken in three places, and sent us home.

Getting to the car was a 6-person effort. Every inch was a trick to see what was possibly mobile, since all of his injuries were to the one side. Eventually, we made it and he dozed off in the late night, never having eaten dinner or allowed to drink water. Getting to the house, he vomited all over his feet, the driveway, and me. 

He was broken apart, but alive. 

Discovery

When H decided to walk, he knew how and took careful precautions and went for the right incentives. He liked to know what was coming, and was a fan of patterns and routines. We would play on the riding toys in the driveway for hours. So many hours, that he was riding two wheels by the age of three. As a teenager, he's rides with a mountain bike team and gets himself to and from school. Same route everyday. He comes home through a park and then down the greenway a short distance. 

Sara called me. Who's Sara? I don't actually know, because we had never met before this call. I was getting on the bike headed for home to pick up my kids. Except she seem to be talking about my kids... 

[Incoming call] Hi yes, I'm Susan. My son? Which one? Who is this again? What did you say? Is he hurt? Can I talk to him? {frantically grabbing coworker to drive me to my child} What hospital are they taking him to? Can you take a picture of his bike so I can know how severe his injuries might be? Thank you Sara, I love you so much right now. I'm coming. Oh hi, yes, I'm his mom. Are you there? Can you hear me? No, he doesn't have any allergies. His name, diagnosis, current meds, yes. Tell him I love him. Thank you. I'll go to the hospital then. 

[text] It's important. Call me immediately.

[Outgoing call] What are you doing right now? Are you parked? There's been an accident, it's H. He was riding his bike home from school. They don't know the extent of his injuries, they're taking him to the hospital. Can you get there? I'm going to get R&T now and I'll meet you there. Where else would I take them? Once they hear he's in the hospital, they're going to want to get there. Yes, we'll figure out. I'll call your dad.

[Incoming call] Hey baby, are you ok? Yes, get in the ambulance with him. Hold his hand. {screams in the background that make me wince} It's ok, I'm coming as fast as I can. Do you want to wait there or go back to the school? {dropping phone sounds and then a new voice} Yes, I'm his mom. I'm coming there right now, about 10 minutes out. Yes, they're brothers, they're my sons. I'm coming as fast I can. 

[Incoming call] Hey sweet girl. Yes, I'm going to pick you up. Listen, something's happened. As soon as I get to the school, be ready. We have to move quickly.

[Outgoing call] Got a sec? I need a favor. Oh, you're driving. Can you pull over? Yea, I know it makes you nervous. Don't worry, I'll wait. Ok, Holden was in an accident. I'm on my way to the hospital, but I need to get R&T first. Can you meet their dad there? I understand you're upset. We are about to walk into a very tense situation and I need you to have a calm head. Yes, you can vent. You didn't hurt my feelings. Yes, meet me at the hospital and we'll figure it out. 

x

[at the scene] Hi, yes, I'm Susan. Can you give me one second and we can finish? {wrap my arms around my second son and feel the relief of a healthy, strong, breathing boy with a brave face} Ok, so where is the van now? Who is Sara? Were there others? Are there skid marks? How fast was she going? Why wouldn't she have stopped then? {wrestling with the bike rack} Here, it goes like this. Oh you have this rack too? Yea we love it. So he usually comes down this greenway path, and then crosses to the curb relief on the other side.  What van was it? Did she brake at all before she hit my son? So you didn't cite her? I need to get to the hospital, can I have the information on the report? Thank you.

Oh the Facebook of it All

An interaction on Facebook has me all worked up this morning. A friend made a complaint, and friends chimed in with shared frustration. The drivers who weren't actually experiencing the interaction were jumping to anger over the reality that bicycles are occupying space on the road. Here's what I'm thinking. I want to resurrect the human status of cyclists by sharing my experience, and also recall the legality of the choice. 

{Did I mention I ride bikes? You guys know this because you're here and probably got here because you know me personally or you ride bikes. Not everyone agrees with my choices, but we can at least civilly disagree.}

When a driver and I disagree about a lane use issue. The exchange is typically punctuated by honking. Sure, that's predictable, but I invite you to an experiment. Try this. Set your 3 year old in the driver seat of your car, obviously not running or in any way powered on. Just set the child in front of the steering wheel's horn button. Now, go stand in front of the car facing the same direction of the vehicle with it behind you. Wait, and then see what happens. 

Often in-motion lane use arguments are much more brutal: A bus driver passes and tips my helmet with the mirror of the bus, nearly spilling me into a rash of poison ivy in the culvert of the road. The mini van mama screams obscenities through an open window while honking and cutting into the lane in front of me to turn right. A one-ton truck driver discards the remnants of a fast food drink, including cup, and then accelerates heavily to leave me in a puff of exhaust. All of these examples have happened to me this year. Everyday I ride my bike, I have an encounter like this.

Please pause and think about the last time you were walking and somebody threw a drink cup at you, screamed obscenities, or just straight up hit you. What was that like for you?

It happens to me every single day that I ride my bike. My humanity wants me to believe this type of interaction isn't normal and doesn't characterize the morality of the individual. I try to lift the interaction out of the well by responding with a super-big smile and wave, "Have a good day!"

(Would you shoot a person who is smiling and waving? It's my only defense on my 20-lb bicycle against a 3,500lb vehicle.)

This is a real fear. Regularly, cyclists are physically assaulted. A driver has pulled a gun on me while riding my bike. I happened to have been pregnant at the time.

People who ride bikes are people. In my case, I'm a mom of three kids. I manage a team of engineers for a major corporation. I also teach yoga for peace, and math to little kids. I pay taxes on my car, my home, and my income. 

When I ride my bike, I am not trying to take anything from you. I'm trying to get to work. When I ride in a peloton, I am not trying to prevent you from using the road. I'm getting a workout. Any delay you experience will likely be short, and I appreciate you waiting until it is safe to pass. 

Jump Track

Adventures on a Friday included:

1. Cake for breakfast
2. Jump track

But what is our gang sign?

In two separate pregnancies, I imagined twin daughters. Instead, these two smart, handsome boys charmed my life. They fight with the worst of them, but they also have lifelong, built-in buddies. The sun was shining on us today.

In the Quiet in the Dark

I have a confession. Today I rode my bike for the second time in many months. Yes. Only two times in maybe three or four months, and one was last week. Life has thrown me some fast balls and some curve balls, and I'm holding on to keep up with all of the action. I made it - the miles are mine again.

Last week I found myself scared on the way home. I was well-dressed for the weather, and lit up like a rolling Christmas tree with all my lights. I didn't understand my own reaction, except to say we are close to the winter solstice and light is scarce. I was easily startled. Maybe it was because the shadows on a trail move faster than you expect when rolling through the dark.

I did a repeat tonight to test myself. My phone blared music while I bounded through miles of greenway in the night. About the time Bruce Springsteen came on, I caught my groove. The song reminded me of the nights in high school when we would drive out to the swamp with the windows down to listen to the croak of the alligators.

Can't wait for daylight savings to end!

Bambi the Buck

The deer in this neighborhood are bizarre. There are so many, they're nearly tame. I find them eating the flowers in the front yard in the morning. Not one, not two, but six or seven or nine. When I drive the street, they look up and then carry about their graze. I have a garden with an 8' fence with no vegetation and hoof prints. There's a nuance to this domestication tho. When I bike up the street, they bolt.

This bizarre thing happened on the way home from school the other day. My son (on bike) makes his way up the street first. Between him and child #2, a car is approaching - and Bambi appears. He's spooked and headed full throttle towards the fence. Nothing is going to stop him! (except the fence) The fence stood its ground, and Bambi flipped back into the street. He's fully panic-stricken. He's in a seizure state of fear. His movements are violent and uncontrolled. He's grunting and growling at himself while somersaulting forwards and back.

We step back and watch, hoping he'll get it together and letting him have his space. It takes 45 seconds? a minute?, but he does catch his feet on the ground. The first grip sends him up the street towards us. The single speed tandem is too heavy to try to manipulate into a shield, and I worried. He flipped and fell again. Another 10 seconds of deer terror, and he finds his way the other direction into the woods.

And this is the day I met my new neighbors! I mention this because this really happened. This weird scene is not a metaphor or a moral story. Only Bambi's name was made up. It's a story about a freaked out buck. Oh deer.

My People

This is post-Fat adventures. Before this picture the scene was different.

It started when I told my daughter that I was ok with skipping it this year. I wasn't feeling it, didn't want to get out, etc. She was justifiably shocked. This is my favorite event and all. She didn't go crazy or anything, just restated her enthusiasm. That's all it took. You can see one child still wearing his Fred Flinstone tie and baby girl wearing her Betty Rubble get up.  We kind of rocked that Flinstones gig. I was happier for going.

So, when this photo happened, I was totes stoked for reals. Yo.

Bike packing attempt 1: chicken church to shakori. Total success.

Admittedly, I set out later than you should in summer. I wasn't worried. I don't mind heat and I had plenty of water.

Let's roll back a few months. I saw a picture of a road that simply ended with the caption "sink hole". I paid little attention because it was across a lake far from any of my regular routes.

EXCEPT THIS DAY, of course. On this day, I totally found the closed road due to sink hole.

I detoured around the steepest golf course around. On our first really hot day. It was the smallest lateral mileage, but clearly the most climb. I would have known this had apple kept up with the sink holes in america.

I got a little grouchy. A little tired. I called for a pick up.

The ride didn't come through, and I was still suffering. I took a minute. I sat down on the roadside and drank in steady breath and shade. I realized I was shivering and began connecting the dots. I sent a text to my heart spoken ninja who would figure it out from a distance if necessary - "Have heat stroke. GPS pin here."

When my symptoms abated enough, and I got back on the bike. Here began the suffering. It was a mile up the road and around the bend to the grocery story. I zombie'd myself into the store and bumped into the perfect person - a product guy holding a monstrous wedge of watermelon on a stick. The grocery stores here are so cool because they sell odd lawn furniture. In this case, there was a hammock. I laid down in the air conditioned hammock with a couple watermelon popsicles and waited for recovery to find me.

When I set back out, I had a record-breaking 5mph pace including rest. The spot in this picture was a swimming hole. I stopped for ice a few miles later before I saw the shot gun adorned sign "Enter at your own risk."

I slept in a hammock under stars this night after an amazing set of live music. Maybe bad things also happened on this adventure, but I choose to remember showering in a farm shower in the forest and waking up to cold-brewed coffee. Long live Shakori.