Sit with it

Two broken wheels, limited memory, ripped lycra, 170km from home.

As I try and piece together what happened I can’t help but feel the feels from 2018 down my left side, specially when I cough. 

The mind races. Yesterday was hands down the best day I had ever had on my bike on a number of fronts. Today promised to be similar. I couldn’t be more excited. I couldn’t be happier.

Not even an hour after we rolled out for day 2 of this 3 day epic and I’m back at the hotel. A bit of a freak occurrence saw a short but apparently solid tree branch flip up from the trail and into my spokes. It ripped all but a couple clean out from the wheel and in doing so flipped me over the handle bars. 

Helmets are a good thing. Always wear one. Today mine saved me. So did the left hand side of my rear ribs who are not super happy with me but mainly intact. 

Sitting at the side of the trail I had no idea where I was nor which direction we had arrived from. An odd and disorienting feeling but one I had felt many times before during my rugby days. Probably should have worn helmets back then too. 

I’m winded and as I write this, I remember feeling the same in a crash in Kenya in 2024 as well as my decent smash that nearly ended it all. Being winded was another rugby sensation but only on freak occurrences did it come with cracked ribs. Fortunately we had a good team Dr back in those days that knew how to take that pain away. Times have changed. 

Fishy starts to piece things back together for me with his unique humor sprinkled with the occasional bit of seriousness you would expect from someone who literally puts out fires for a living. 

When I went to get my bike this morning I noticed I had cracked my rear wheel during yesterday’s ride. Second time in as many adventures. My reaction was abnormal for me. I was angry. It was odd. I’m not sure why but I will try and figure that one out. My gut says the disappointment of potentially not being able to ride today. DJ had a look and said it will be fine. I was immediately relaxed and back to excited for the day. Funny how one thing from one person can change the flow of energy. 

As I got my breathing under control and a few pieces of the puzzle clear in my mind DJ had stuck his front wheel into my bike so I could get back to the hotel. Nicko had my broken wheel in his hand and along with the Miner, I had an escort the 6km back to the hotel. Holding the handle bars and avoiding the bumps were both nice challenges but as the adrenaline pumps it’s always good to get to safety. You know when it settles that’s when the true pain sets in. 

The mind races. Nothing is rational. You want it to stop but you know you have to go through it. Stupid thoughts like “what training will I do tomorrow” and “I just had 130 grams of carbs for breakfast now what”? go through the mind. Of course I immediately want to fix my bike as I have a race in 5 weeks and want it right and need to train. It’s not till an hour later I remember I have a second set of wheels and a turbo trainer and pretty much every solution I need. But in the moment it’s mayhem. 

Holly is in the middle of a CrossFit competition over 2 hours away. The conversation we had just 2 days earlier on how selfish sports addictions can be comes to the front of my mind. I sit with a weird nervousness to call her then realize I have to face the music. We talk about her workouts but she hears the difference in my voice. A groggy tone almost. She asks if I’m ok. I don’t want her to panic and actually aside from a bit dazed and confused and a bit annoyed I can’t finish the 3 day ride I’m absolutely fine. The wheels, helmet and lycra can all be replaced. The skin will grow back and the ribs will fix themselves. They are good like that ribs. 

She will come and get me as soon as she can. I put the phone down and sit. I sit with all the thoughts I have shared and many more. It’s not easy. It’s not supposed to be. The disappointment is real. Not my favorite guy to sit with but I sit with him for a bit too. Almost like we are chatting. I write some things down. I try and take back control of what I can. Those that know how this stuff works know that the control piece is important. Those that know me know how that intertwines with my OCD. 

I go for a walk 20m to the store and buy a coffee. I sit on the street and sip it. It’s like lava. I smile. The lady said she would put some cold water in the top. Maybe she did. Does it even matter? I sit more. I think. I let the thoughts sit with me. I look down at my feet and see my hotel slippers. I look over the road at the green fields. I smile. I smile some more. They have been there for thousands of years. They will be there for a while longer. This is not the end. This is just what it is today. 

Of course I start to plan. My recovery. My mind more than anything. I’m a very average cyclist but it does something special for me in my life. Sport always has done. I’m obsessive. I’m all in. I would not change a thing. By having these obsessions I am able to show up as a husband, a son and a coach in the ways I believe are the best versions of me. If I’m that then maybe, just maybe I’m in the best position I can be to make people better at life. Ultimately it’s all my therapy. For what? For life I think. I’m still not sure. It’s a work in progress. 

Holly will be here soon. We will chat some more on the way home. And for the rest of the day. And many days after. We like to chat. It’s good.

One thing is for sure. The show goes on. As I am sure Dad will tell me when he sees my messages. Something along the lines of: “that’s cycling, these things happen”.

They are good things. Hard things but good things. Both are important. 

Tomorrow we go again. 

No weakness

Marcus.