The Iron Price

You want to race, get deep in the thick shit and show everybody how strong you are? Throw down for that $20 gift card to Taco Bell in the prime sprint?  Take that Cat5 podium and taste the sweet nectar that is the tears of your opposition? Or maybe just take that Strava city limit sign KoM.

Then you have to be willing to pay the iron price my friend. And you better like that shit, cause brother (or sister) you're going to hit the ground, sooner or later.

Maybe it's a little fresh in my mind. I was involved in two wrecks over the weekend, albeit I only went down in one of them. (My friend James rolled a tire at the end of the day in our practice match sprint on Saturday... broke his clavicle and some ribs... and some bike equipment. Right before Master's Nationals in CA. Shit totally sucks) First race of the Rock Hill track series (12 lap scratch race) and about 10" into it (still on the neutral lap, made it from the start to turn1) a rider in front of my friend Dyllon and I clips a pedal going too slow into the turn. He slides out, directly in our path. First rule of track cycling... you can't go under a rider slider... it never works out.

You see that shit happening and time slows down, Bullet time like the Matrix, except you aren't Neo, you're the poor non-agent policeman he pulls some crazy kung fu time and matter defying kick you in the face fella... ie. You're about to get shit on. You play out a few scenario's in your mind in hyper speed... can't go up the track, not going fast enough. Can't bunny hop two people. Can't go low... fuck. Hold on to the bars. This is going to hurt. Not again. Hope my bike is going to be ok... Hope it doesn't scare my wife too bad...

Personally, I almost black out in the crash itself. I always have. It's like my mind just partitions that away so I don't have to re-live it. I'm on the ground.  Stuff doesn't feel great. Hear people running, bikes untangling.  Somebody tells me to take it easy... yeah, gotcha. I sit up, take stock. Shoulder hurts a bit, left hand is bleeding freely. Cheek hurts, and ear burns. "You're bleeding quite a bit behind your ear, did you hit your head?" Did I? Hell if I know. When you're not terribly smart to start with it's hard to know.  Deciding my lower body is functioning properly I get up and we move to a bench. The race has re-started at this point, they definitely aren't waiting on my busted up ass.  Somebody tell my wife I'm ok. Oh, there she is. Hey dear, look at your dumbass 35 year old husband bleeding through his spandex. Did you get any good pictures? Where do you want to eat tonight?

"Your collarbone looks broken" Oh no, don't worry, that's the plate from this one time way back when I broke my collarbone... why does it stick up like that? Oh that's from the last last time I wrecked on that side and dislodged it. It just looks bad. "What cut your ear so bad?" That? Let's see... helmet doesn't have any scratches or bashed spots... sunglasses aren't broken. Oh... that's just the back part of this expensive Kask helmet digging into the back of my ear when it went forward, thanks a lot Kask. Dyllon's ass saved me from smacking the ground with my face. Give me ass over pavement any day. Ear stops bleeding eventually... band aids on the fingers. Alright, now to the important part... how does the bike look.

Dislodged wheel... broke my computer mount for the saddle, tore the side of the saddle very slightly. Scratches in the (brand new) handlebars. Nothing seems broken. The pro/1/2 race is ending, almost time for the second 3/4 race to begin.

Hop back on the bike "Are you sure?" We drove all the way out here to race... might has well try to race.
I ride around the practice track with just my left hand on the bars, making sure my arm isn't going to give out on me at a random inopportune time. Seems like it'll hold. We line back up on the rail "Everybody make sure you're going fast enough to get around the turn this time" a slightly nervous laugh rings out.

After this race (I managed to get 4th in the win&out for what it's worth - nothing like adrenaline to keep things moving fast) the guy that clipped his pedal finds me and apologizes / asks if I'm alright.

--- Real talk --- This is what you do after you're involved in a wreck with other people. ALWAYS. If you're not fully sure what happened or it was a "shit happens" scenario, you find whoever was hurt and check on them anyways. This is your responsibility. And if you did something that directly caused it, be doubly sure things are good.
On the same note, if you're the person that got wrecked... when they come and apologize (so long as it wasn't malicious of course) that's the end of that shit. You're good.  You signed the waiver, you knew it was a risk. Don't hold a grudge or be a dick about it. Move on. Bike racing (triathlon, cross, mountain biking, running, spartan, etc etc) is a fun, beautiful sport but it's also dangerous as fuck. Don't try to convince yourself it isn't. Read that waiver you signed... you could DIE. They don't put that in there just to scare you.

Jump back in for the points race. Shit is high tension now. Everybody is tired, everybody makes mistakes when they are tired. Field splits... Points races are wild because everyone stays in, so if you get lapped you're still in the field. So speeds can be drastically different. (Did I mention there are no brakes ;) )  We run it a bit, eventually the prime lap comes up and I put in a massive effort to stave Dyllon off at the line (for a sweet $20 gift card might I add) but I've blown my load. I try to take it easy for a lap or two but can't get my wind back... shit still burns/hurts... to hell with this. I pull out. Great decision! Probably the first one I've had all evening.

I have a couple of beers and try rubbing some dirt in "it." Not sure what to rub dirt in, but it sounded good, and I'd had a beer or two, so I try it. Didn't seem to help. Still sore as hell, and now it might be infected.


Look, this isn't a scare you post, it's not a pity me post. This is a reality check post. Bike racing is dangerous. You're going high speeds on two 19-25mm slits of rubber wearing a helmet and spandex, oftentimes in close quarters with people are tired, bored, nervous, or just plain fucking sketchy.  (You aren't safe triathletes... you have to pass a shitton of people in aerobars that often don't even know which side of the road they are supposed to be on... and go through aid stations with these people... and of course the stereotype is you suck at bike handling anyways...)

I'm a safe, defensive rider that is past the point in his life where he is willing to take a chance on a gap that might not really be there, or take a sprint for top15. But I still wreck. Shit happens. It sucks. Often it's not my fault... sometimes it is. It happens to newbies that forget to unclip and fall over, it happens to Chris Froome when he takes his hands off the bars... it happens to everyone.

Decide if that is for you or not. Talk to your partner about it if you have one. But FFS, don't lie to yourself. Be willing to pay the iron price!