Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: August 19, 2014

August 19, 2018

This is my story.

2014 started off as my best cycling season to date.  Thanks to lots of training I was the strongest and fittest I had ever been.  In June I rode a solo 135 mile ride (the solo part was unplanned but I went with it and felt pretty badass for riding that far alone).  In July I did a ride I had been wanting to do for a while; I rode 200 miles in one day with my brother and sister in law. I was finally finding my groove as a cyclist and I was excited for rides to come.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014.  I was just days away from starting at a new teaching job, so earlier in the day I went to the school to begin to set up my new office and to start working on an IEP that was due the first day of school.  My school laptop was not wanting to cooperate, so instead of getting much actual work done, I spent most of my time on the phone with our IT guy. After a few hours at work, I went home to get ready for our Tuesday night group ride in Gorham.

August 19th was to be our last group ride of the season.  Our new Porky Gulch shop jerseys had just arrived so we stopped for a group photo before beginning our ride.  The night was warm and sunny and the group was full of smiles; we had had a spectacular season of riding together and sharing many laughs along the way.  We were all excited for our last ride and to show off our new jerseys. This was to be my last ride with an uninjured brain.

We left the shop and took a right hand turn onto route 2.  We took route 16 through parts of Berlin then crossed the river onto Unity Street.  From Unity Street we took a short right on Coos Street then a quick left onto Hutchins Street.  Hutchins Street turns into East Milan Road which turns into East Side River Road. We took a left onto Bridge Street and crossed back over the river.  There was a regroup on Bridge Street at which point my brother said that we could add on a climb or head straight back to the shop. A few members wanted to head back but most wanted to keep riding.  I asked Jon what I always asked him when it came to a climb I’ve never done before “how steep is it?” “You’ve climbed worse” he replied, then he teasingly added “besides, you don’t get to skip the hill, everyone else can but not you”.  We proceeded down Milan Road which becomes Riverside Drive. At the turn to Cates Hill Road, those that wanted to, went back to the shop, while the rest of us made the trek up Cates Hill. Jon was right, I’d climbed worse, but this hill was still tough.  At one point I looked behind me (as for once I wasn’t the last climber up the hill) and I noticed I wasn’t the only one struggling to get up the incline, the guys behind me were zig-zagging as well. It’s the type of steep that you can’t even unclip on because you must keep your legs moving at all times or you’ll simply fall over.  Although we huffed and puffed up the hill, the climb was worth it once we saw the view awaiting us. The sun was just starting to lower down and it was a glorious sight to see!

We then proceeded to go down the opposite side of Cates Hill and we quickly found ourselves on Hillside Avenue.  This was a steep downhill so we zig-zagged our way down on side roads, riding Harrington Avenue, Winter Street, Prospect Street then back onto Hillside Avenue.  At this point we had split into three groups. My brother and 1 or 2 more riders were in front of me, there was a gap, then myself, then another gap then the remaining riders.  As we were descending I noticed the intersection of Hillside Avenue and Willard Street. I saw an SUV stopped, heading up Hillside Ave, that wanted to turn left onto Willard. I saw my brother and his group pass through.  I quickly closed in on the intersection as I was going about 30 MPH. As I was closing in I saw the SUV begin to move forward and to my horror I realized they were going to cut me off. I began screaming for them to stop, while applying my brakes with all my force. There was another car behind the SUV so I couldn’t cut to the left (or else I’d run right into this other car), and if I continued going straight there was no doubt I’d die by hitting the SUV head on, so I made the snap decision to try and turn with the SUV (a decision that a first responder later told me, saved my life).  In a matter of seconds I had to respond to the danger of this driver cutting me off; but what went through my head was not “I’m going to die” however “this is going to really hurt!” My life didn’t flash before my eyes. There were no final thoughts going through my mind. Truly, all I could think was how much colliding with a SUV at 30 MPH was going to hurt. It was here, on the corner of Hillside Avenue and Willard Street that a SUV driven by a female driver with her son in the back passenger seat, cut me off, forcing a collision between automobile and bicycle. It was here that my life forever changed.  

I don’t remember the actual impact.  Whether I blacked out or whether it happened too fast to process is still up for debate (although most likely I was knocked unconscious by the impact). I opened my eyes to see that I was under the car, looking up at the exhaust!  Thankfully she stopped before running me over. I was still clipped into my pedals so I tried pushing myself out from under the car, while clipped in, and swearing up a storm. The first thing the driver said to me was “could you watch your mouth?”  I quickly informed her that she’d hit me with her car and I had free right to say whatever I felt like saying (plus a few more swears were thrown in for good measure). She told me that she didn’t see me, but her son (probably around 10 years old) immediately said “but Mom, I told you she was there!”  (I later read in the police report that she did in fact see me but in her words she “didn’t feel like waiting” [reading her words felt like a punch in the stomach…her time was more important than my safety.]) The few riders that were behind me on the decent came upon the crash and immediately stopped to help me.  One rider checked in with me then went ahead to get my brother. The other riders helped me finish getting out from under the SUV, unclipped my feet from the pedals, and moved me and my bike to the sidewalk (my shoulder that I’d had repaired 9 months prior, really hurt, and my left hip was badly out of place). In what felt like only seconds, my brother was right by my side.  

I remember clearly telling Jonathon how angry I was and how much my body hurt.  We talked for a bit about what happened, before I finally glanced up and noticed a Jen sized dent in the car’s passenger door.  I pointed it out to my brother and told him that I got a sick-satisfaction out of seeing that. (A year later, my friend Brian and I were joking that I should open up a bike shop and call it Dented Door Cyclery!)

Jonathon and I sat there waiting for first responders to arrive (I have no idea who called them). I continued to tell Jon how much my body hurt (for days after the crash people would ask me how I felt and I could truly only respond with “I feel like I got hit by a car” because there were no words adequate enough to describe how I was feeling).  I continued to tell Jonathon over and over how angry I was. I remember thinking all would be okay in no time at all (adrenaline is an amazing thing). I was still blissfully unaware of the hell that awaited me; of the emotional, mental and physical pain that would follow me years later; of the permanent damage that was done to my brain.

This was a real-life nightmare.  As a road cyclist I think we all have a healthy fear, knowing we can get hit, but we also have a little bit of a Superman complex thinking we are indestructible.  Never in my wildest dreams or my worst nightmares did I think this would happen to me. Sadly, I relive this often in my sleep and while I’m out riding I visualize the worst case scenario repeatedly.  

In just a matter of seconds, because a driver “didn’t feel like waiting” my life was forever changed.  

This day, August 19th, haunts me.