There is no way around it: crashing sucks. Besides the psychological effects of going down, the physical implications of a crash can seriously disrupt any momentum you have. For many cyclists that hit the pavement, crashing will mean at the least a broken collarbone. Add to that the financial impact of destroying wheels, bikes, helmets and tearing of clothes and the sum is clear. No matter what way you look at it, crashing sucks.

My story begins nearly two weeks ago. The roll off of the Category 4/5 Pinecone Road Race was without incident. The course is a flat 10 mile loop with five right hand turns – easy enough for those who have ridden in serious groups before. Through the first turn I chose an inside line knowing that there would be a sand trap of sorts. By putting myself through the dangerous part of the turn I insured that no one could come on the inside of me and wreck the group. If I went down, I could only blame myself.

After making it through the first turn, we headed down the back straight towards the next set of turns. The group was packed in like tunafish in a can due to the double yellow rule (cannot cross the double yellow line). A constant shuffling of bodies meant that you had to fight just to stay where you were in the group to say nothing of moving up. The next set of turns come up and fly by without incident. I thank the lord quietly as no one has made a silly mistake of going into a turn too hot or not holding their line.

Finally we make it to the front straight on the first of three laps. The group is moving along at about 22 miles per hour, the road is flat, the sun is shining and the mood is calm but focused. I am comfortable, my heart rate shows it and my legs feel great. And that is when it happens.

A massive slowdown in front of me and voices yelling out “woah!” in anger and fright. I know immediately that I have no choice but to lock up my wheels and scrub off as much speed as possible before I reach the impending doom. A wall of bikes and people comes up and I hit something, go down, slide and land under my bike. People are falling on top of me, but I am okay. As the fallen recover, check their bikes and move on I realize that I am not to join them. A quick glance at my bike shows a decimated front wheel. No spare wheel means I will be walking to the start/finish (until picked up). But at least my limbs are still attached and nothing is screaming at me in agony. I am bleeding from a few spots, but with full motion I realize I got out extremely lucky.

It has almost been two weeks since that day and I am still struggling a little to find my mojo. While I rode last weekend, it was a feeble attempt to maintain whatever physical ability I have gained this season. The crash has ruined my momentum and has put me in a period of poor form. And while I am positive that I can get back on good form, it will take some time. And there is really only one thing that can be said about all of this: crashing sucks.