Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: don’t be fooled

May 15, 2021

About two years into my TBI journey I was diagnosed with PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder).  At my first appointment with the psychologist I was first asked to describe in detail the day I was hit, then I was told “well…to first deal with PTSD you need to confront your fear…you need to get back on the bike.”  I shot the lady a funny look and said “I’m on the bike…” Those four words clearly threw her for a loop and she fumbled to come up with something useful for me to help deal with the trauma.  Needless to say I was released from this therapy because “there was nothing that could be done”.  

Don’t be fooled…

Yes, I still ride my bike.  It was very important to me to not be afraid and I climbed back on the saddle as soon as my dizziness allowed.  In the beginning I rode only with a group of friends that did everything in their power to make me feel as safe as possible.  Eventually I felt confident enough to ride solo, without my protective lycra clad bubble surrounding me.

Don’t be fooled…

Prior to getting hit, I rode with a heart rate monitor to train with.  After getting hit there was no point in me wearing one because my heart races whenever a vehicle goes by me, so the data was not accurate.  Yes, I still ride my bike, but I panic the whole entire time.  I have not had a care-free ride since August 19, 2014.  From start to finish I have a huge fear of getting hit again, I imagine awful scenarios where I am struck, I crunch into a ball to make myself as small as possible, my heart races, I panic.  Some days the fear of getting on the bike is too much to even start a ride, so I don’t.  Other days, like today, the fear doesn’t start to set in until I set off down the road.  Today at mile 1.3 I was in full blown panic mode.  I struck off for a 35 mile ride but realized I’d be lucky if I made 3.5 miles.  I considered turning around and letting PTSD win today, but I’m on a mission this month and decided to keep going.  By mile 5.7 I could not get off the road fast enough; I even considered calling my Dad to come pick me up.  I knew I needed to get home, and get home quickly, so I decided to stick to quiet back roads and avoid cars as much as possible.  The closer I got to home the longer it seemed to take to get there.  Cars flying by, not sharing the road, heart racing, panicking to the point of tears, one angry truck driver almost causing a crash between myself and an out of state driver.  I knew it was going to be a tough rest of my day.  I had planned on riding tomorrow as well, but right this moment, I can’t even fathom the idea. 

Some days PTSD wins, some days I do, but don’t be fooled there is nothing easy for me about riding a bike after a driver “didn’t feel like waiting” and the next thing I know I’m under her SUV looking up at her exhaust.  

I love riding my bike.  I do.  But don’t be fooled.