Confessions of a Concussed Cyclist: Not Today PTSD

July 22, 2021

I have a secret…I haven’t been on my bike in three weeks.  Some of that is due to many bad TBI days where I’m just trying to survive the day, but some of it is due to PTSD.  The thought of riding makes me panic.  It’s a bizarre world to be in; on one hand I really want to ride but on the other hand I’m scared to death to.  I knew it was getting bad, I knew I needed to confront it, but I didn’t, I kept avoiding my bike.  Thanks to bad weather it was easier to avoid and not truly face my fears.  Then the past few days I noticed even out walking, on the safety of the sidewalk, I was panicking every time a car went by.  Each driver that had the unfortunate timing to drive by while I was walking, had to face the wrath of my dirty look.  Each person was guilty in my mind, each driver was capable of severe harm to me.  I knew at that point I either needed to get back on the saddle now or walk away for a long time.  So today, I forced myself out.  

I’ve felt like a fraud the past three weeks.  People tell me how brave I am that I still ride, but I haven’t felt brave;  I’ve felt terrified.  

I miss how carefree riding used to be.  I miss the miles.  I miss how fit I was.  I miss it all.  But then I close my eyes and immediately I visualize going over someone’s hood after they’ve hit me.  I open Instagram only to see multiple posts about riders being hit, injured, killed while out riding.  I keep saying I need to avoid social media and here’s another reason why, reminder after reminder of cyclists losing to drivers.

Once I finish a ride I feel a mixture of euphoria and remaining fear.  I’m so glad I rode, I’m so glad I wasn’t killed (…today).   A former pro cyclist has posted multiple times that if he’s ever killed while on his bike know this: 1. He didn’t do anything wrong and the driver is the one at fault (it’s very easy to blame a dead cyclist) and 2. Don’t let the headlines read “cyclist killed in bike accident” (it wasn’t a bike accident, it was a driver hitting him) and I add my third “find the bastard who killed me and make sure they rot in prison”.  

Today, I rode.  It took me three weeks, but I rode, and it was a good ride.  I felt great.  Drivers shared the road!  I survived.  I needed a ride like this to get back on the saddle again, to remind myself why I love this sport so much.  To push the fear down for a minute or two.

The panic is always there, it has been for years and it probably will be for the rest of my life.  Some days the panic keeps me inside and some days I can overcome the fear.  Hopefully it’s not another three weeks before my next ride.