Well, its true. It finally happened. I had a good chunk of flesh taken out of me and had to get some medical attention afterwards. No, it wasn't a shark- it was the Mt. Falcon trial near Morrison, CO. Instead of saying the trial bit me, it is probably more accurate to say I ate it.
After getting off work on Tuesday evening and making a few phone calls, I followed my googled directions to the Mt. Falcon, a trail recommended by Ken Brumm, another consultant on my project and moutain biker from here in Denver. It turned out to be only 10-15 minutes from where I am working in Littleton. I quickly changed into my biking gear, donned my helmet and pulled my bike out of the back of my rented SUV. I figured I had a couple of hours before dark and a 4 mile ride should be easy doing despite a 2,000 ft elevation gain. The going was tougher than I had anticipated as I didn't have clip-ins and it is the first time I've ridden anything technical in almost a year. However, the views of Denver and the Rocky Mountain peaks to the west were incredible.
Click on the pict below to see the skyline of Denver from Mt. Falcon. Wow!
Coming down, I was having a blast. I begin to think I was finally getting the hang of it: bouncing over rocks and flying off the trail breaks that divert the runoff. I was going 20-25 mph on the bumpy singletrack. A half mile from the trailhead I got a couple of bumps in rapid succession and hit the wrong (front) brake after landing with my front wheel twisted in an attempt to correct a trajectory that would send me off the trail. The bike responded by turning even more, digging in the front wheel, and stopping rather abruptly. I did not.
I caught the initial impact with my left gloved hand and left knee. I tried to lessen the impact with a roll, but instead of rolling, my twist only caused my right hip and arm to dig into the gravel with my full weight behind it and skid along the dirt and gravel trail for 10 feet. Can you say no wind? Can you say hamburger?
Embarrassed and wind knocked out, I scrambled to get off the trail and rested in the weeds on the right of the trail in a relatively flat section of the route. Though covered in blood and dust, I told the biker following me by about 20 seconds who inquired how I was that I was fine- "just got the wind knocked out of me". After a few more questions, he was satisfied I was going to be OK and continued down. Afterwhich, I picked up my unhurt bike and continued down much more cautiously.
The rapidly coagulating blood mixed with dirt and gravel from the trail made nice black and red patches on legs, arms and left hand. As I got into my hot car with cold blowing AC, the sting finally hit. Ouch! I decided to find a clinic where perhaps a nurse could help me dig the gravel and dirt out of my arm and knee and get some antibiotics to prevent infection. A call to a project buddy, Todd Pittman, who had the unfortunate opportunity to use a local clinic a few weeks before revealed that after 8pm, my only option was a hospital.
The nice folks at the Adventist Hospital in Littleton cleaned my wounds, x-rayed my hand, splinted my thumb, and sent me back to my hotel. They also advised me to stay out of the water for few days until the wounds had stopped bleeding and oozing. Probably good advice. I guess my plans for Chatfield reservior this evening are not going to materialize.
(After cleaning off the blood and dust, it looks like I could be healed enough for Saturday's ocean swim, but if you click on the arm you can see what my "cleaned hamburger" looks like. I'm going to spare you the unbandaged knee.)
After getting off work on Tuesday evening and making a few phone calls, I followed my googled directions to the Mt. Falcon, a trail recommended by Ken Brumm, another consultant on my project and moutain biker from here in Denver. It turned out to be only 10-15 minutes from where I am working in Littleton. I quickly changed into my biking gear, donned my helmet and pulled my bike out of the back of my rented SUV. I figured I had a couple of hours before dark and a 4 mile ride should be easy doing despite a 2,000 ft elevation gain. The going was tougher than I had anticipated as I didn't have clip-ins and it is the first time I've ridden anything technical in almost a year. However, the views of Denver and the Rocky Mountain peaks to the west were incredible.
Click on the pict below to see the skyline of Denver from Mt. Falcon. Wow!
Coming down, I was having a blast. I begin to think I was finally getting the hang of it: bouncing over rocks and flying off the trail breaks that divert the runoff. I was going 20-25 mph on the bumpy singletrack. A half mile from the trailhead I got a couple of bumps in rapid succession and hit the wrong (front) brake after landing with my front wheel twisted in an attempt to correct a trajectory that would send me off the trail. The bike responded by turning even more, digging in the front wheel, and stopping rather abruptly. I did not.
I caught the initial impact with my left gloved hand and left knee. I tried to lessen the impact with a roll, but instead of rolling, my twist only caused my right hip and arm to dig into the gravel with my full weight behind it and skid along the dirt and gravel trail for 10 feet. Can you say no wind? Can you say hamburger?
Embarrassed and wind knocked out, I scrambled to get off the trail and rested in the weeds on the right of the trail in a relatively flat section of the route. Though covered in blood and dust, I told the biker following me by about 20 seconds who inquired how I was that I was fine- "just got the wind knocked out of me". After a few more questions, he was satisfied I was going to be OK and continued down. Afterwhich, I picked up my unhurt bike and continued down much more cautiously.
The rapidly coagulating blood mixed with dirt and gravel from the trail made nice black and red patches on legs, arms and left hand. As I got into my hot car with cold blowing AC, the sting finally hit. Ouch! I decided to find a clinic where perhaps a nurse could help me dig the gravel and dirt out of my arm and knee and get some antibiotics to prevent infection. A call to a project buddy, Todd Pittman, who had the unfortunate opportunity to use a local clinic a few weeks before revealed that after 8pm, my only option was a hospital.
The nice folks at the Adventist Hospital in Littleton cleaned my wounds, x-rayed my hand, splinted my thumb, and sent me back to my hotel. They also advised me to stay out of the water for few days until the wounds had stopped bleeding and oozing. Probably good advice. I guess my plans for Chatfield reservior this evening are not going to materialize.
3 comments:
Hey Chris, what are you trying to do to yourself? You have a lot of people that love you very much and want you around for a long time. Eden's new favorite story is about aunt Brookie falling off a mountain. It just may be uncle Chris crashing on his bike. I don't want to be a mom any more!
Chris, that last blog was from your mom. I don't know why it came up Vigoren.
Chris, Chris, Chris. Mom's boys are going to send her to the grave early! Be careful!!!!
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