It all began with a jacket. Little did I know a blue wind jacket with no pockets, plucked off the clearance rack at Beaver Sports, would alter my life so drastically. There's no place for your hands! Oh well, nice jacket anyways. Always a sucker for a good sale.
In training for the Equinox Marathon, I went running last Thursday on Ester Dome, a nearby elevation gain of about 2000'. There was a threat of rain that day, so from the car I ran with my blue jacket with no pockets. It didn't take long for me to realize that I was over-heated, and stashed the blue jacket with no pockets in the bushes. On the way back, I didn't even think of it; ran right by and headed to the showers.
Then came Friday. I was tired of running, but still had the itch to do something. Winds weren't favorable for any sort of flying, so I packed up the mountain bike. Now where is my blue jacket with no pockets? Oh yeah, Ester Dome. Well, I guess I'll ride those trails. It was a little out of the way, but any excuse to ride the single-track.
"Single-track" is a type of trail, typically tight and technical. (As opposed to a double-track which is likely a road for vehicles.) The Happy Valley Trail on Ester Dome sweeps, swerves, dips, and dives through the trees about half-way up Ester Dome. It flows; smooth and fast.
I was familiar with the trail, and perhaps riding a bit on the over-confident side. It sure felt good to be on the bike. Cool air moving past my face, Jimi Hendrix on the iPod, and Apollo blazing the trail at constant trot, bewitched by the occasional calling squirrel.
The ride was about over when I came to some man-made features. Little platforms on which to ride, catch a little air, and continue onward feeling like a bad-ass. I had done this ramp in particular before, multiple times, why back down from the challenge now?
Into the air I flew, carrying too much speed. I overshot the landing, and came down on the mushy, vegetated edge of the trail. This put me in a wobble and I started over the handlebars. At this point I realized there were some trees rapidly approaching. Funny. I remember spotting those trees the first time I saw this feature and thinking, "Hmm, wonder why they built that ramp there right in front of those trees."
Airborne horizontally, with the bike below me, my right shin made full contact with a standing birch tree. The impact spun me around and stole from me all momentum I carried moments before. Ouch, that was a hit. Can't be that bad, lets see the damage.
"$%&@"
At this point, Apollo doubled back and we sat in the middle of the trail. I cursed a few times and banged on the ground. Ah, finally - adrenaline. I pulled my handy-dandy iPhone from my bag and gave a ring to ol' 911. Paramedics on the way. Nice. Okay, now what?
As Apollo worked a close perimeter, I removed my riding shirt and tied it around the wound. Last time I ride without a first-aid kit. I used my headphones for a little extra pressure, but they proved useless. Climbing to my feet, I realized I could bear weight. That's good. But the first few steps quickly showed me hobbling on one foot while leaning a bicycle wasn't going to work. Wait a minute, stop leaning on the bike and ride the thing!
I flung my leg over and balanced on the seat. With my left foot guiding the pedals and occasionally dragging on the ground, right foot out like a broken wing, I coasted the bike down the trail. Careful now. Falling is not an option. It was about a half-mile back to the car, and lucky for me mostly down hill.
I arrived at the car right as a first responder showed up. "You call an ambulance?" Yup. The wrap, limp, and bloody leg didn't give it away? She was nice. I was glad I got out of there on my own, even an Alaska State Trooper showed up with an ATV.
The paramedics were very friendly, but I declined transport. Something about seeing your muscle flop out of your leg makes you want to call 911, but I probably could've gotten myself to the hospital. I called Will, and he gave me a ride to the ER. The paramedics gave me a good pressure wrap, and cracked jokes while we waited for Will to show up.
The ER was pretty straight forward. Wait. Triage. Wait. X-rays. Wait. Insurance information. Wait. Doctor. Wait. IV. Morphine. Wait. Anti-biotic flush. Wait. Stiches. Wait. Wrap. Wait. Go home at midnight.
The flush was pretty impressive. To clean the wound of any dirt or debris, they squirted 3 liters of an anti-biotic fluid into my leg while simultaneously sucking it out with a vacuum. That made an interesting sound.
Looks good. Final count was 2 internal, dissolving stiches, and 12 external, doubled up to make 24 individual connections between the opposing sides.
It struck me when here I found myself, in the ER, eating chocolates brought by friends, watching the tech use little curved needles grafted to black fishing line to sew the hole in my leg closed. A hospital gown graced my chest because my shirt was previously used as a tourniquet. I came in wearing the the blue jacket with no pockets, but it impeded the IV.
Many thanks to Will for taking me to the hospital and for getting me all set-up with medical supplies. Also to Oliver and Brittany for taking Murphy (Apollo) for me.
