March 22, 2022

It was a beautiful spring day. 60 degrees out and a light breeze blew as I rode my mountain bike away from the house to the trail head. A small descent, a right turn, and I was under the canopy. Picking up speed, I hopped over the log, made the steep ascent onto a side path and pumped the bike through the rolling terrain.

Up the hills on narrow single track, around the lake, and up another hill. I met some fellow coaches from the mountain biking (MTB) team and a representative from the local trail building organization. It had already been four miles getting there and we spent half an hour talking, so by the time I started riding again, it was another push to get the blood pumping as we went straight into a climb.

I knew where we were headed. I’d ridden “Zed’s Dead” a few times before so I was aware of what I was getting into. The top section is a nice flow but once it crosses over the double track, it is filled with jumps and a steep drop at the end. I do my best to keep the bike on the ground. My equilibrium isn’t great after years of working with explosives, so air travel is ill advised.

We were really picking up speed. I was bypassing all the jumps, and I thought I was good until I went into a dip which quickly popped back up and launched me skyward. When I landed I was not prepared for the aggressive rebound of the newly rebuilt and untuned front shock. I take full responsibility for the bucking bronco like ride I took over the bars.

I was epically catapulted. My flight ended abruptly with all my weight on my left shoulder. It was a hard hit. Despite being crumpled up like garbage, I got myself back on the bike quickly (and stupidly) without doing a self or bike assessment. I caught up to the group at the bottom of the trail. I talked to one coach about what happened. They noted that things did not appear to be quite right, possibly it was dislocated?

What’s that?

There was obviously an excess of adrenaline in my system and I kept my composure. I touched my shoulder and felt something free-floating. Was that my joint out of socket or a bone fragment? Oh well, the damage was done, so I decided to keep riding and evaluate as I went.

We climbed back to the top and started another black diamond jump trail. Obviously skipping the jumps, I continued riding to the best of my ability. The damage was already done and in the back of my mind I figured I might not be riding again for awhile so I decided to make the most of it. Sadly, the last 50 yards of the trail was a steep, rooted section and I dismounted, walking my bike to the end. I could no longer safely control my descent.

At this point the adrenaline was still high, but starting to come down a bit, and I knew it was time to pack it in. As I discussed my decision to ride home, a member of the group was asking some diagnostic questions about the injury. They assumed because I could move my arm in most directions in a majority of my range of motion that is was likely just a bruise.

I’ve injured myself enough to know when something is of greater concern and this certainly fell into said category; I’ve endured a decent amount of pain in my 40 years. I rode the two miles home, put the bike in the garage, and walked up to the house.

I found Misty and calmly let her know that I needed to go to urgent care. I intended to drive myself so she could stay home with the kids. After all, my right arm was fine. Ok, where’d that adrenaline go? The pain was growing exponentially. She wisely drove me.

I should’ve taken something for the pain before we left.

When did urgent care stop giving pain meds? I guess this opioid crisis is affecting every aspect of health care. After a few hours, a few X-rays, no shirt, and no pain management, I was shaking uncontrollably when I got in the car to go home. I was cold, hungry, and seriously hurting.

She drove ten mph below the speed limit and I still asked her to slow down. Every bump in the road was torture.
Not so tough now, are you Marine?

The next day I went to see the orthopedic surgeon. She told me that it was best to let it heal on its own. I was surprised but happy to not have more hardware installed in my body. The metal I already have aches in the cold and rain. I spent the next three weeks in a sling, sleeping every night in the recliner.

Physical therapy has been excellent and I’ve made serious progress. It’s quite effective if you go in seeking advancement through pain rather than complaining about it.

By May 15 I was Back in the Saddle and taking my youngest son for a ride. He was in shape from the track season and I was seriously out of shape. He was talking trash for most of the ride as he pushed and I sucked wind, but it was GREAT to be back out there.

The MTB season starts in July and this year my daughter will be joining the team. That’s right, all three kids will be riding. Am I excited? You bet I am. I’m starting to book all the campsites and tune up the bikes.

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These Veteran stories of struggle, adventure, and post traumatic growth need to be heard!
Join the cause to de-stigmatize mental health issues.
Please SUBSCRIBE, share our website with friends / co-workers, and support us by donation or at the STORE.