cyclocross can fuck you up. you know what i'm talking about.
that was not me, but i feel his pain. which is to say, he does not feel my pain. he walked away, but i staggered gimpily away with a broken collarbone. which is to say, i staggered gimpily away with my own private embarrassment of crashing (Linus was the only witness, but i've paid him off to never testify against me), but that other guy walked away an instant internet sensation, head hung low. which is to say, in summary, i do not feel his pain.
so here's my one month post-surgery update:
first of all, i'm still not back on the bike yet, so if you're keen on reading about my awesome cycling exploits, i'm sorry to disappoint you (however, you should have been disappointed about that a long time ago). in fact, i'm not shaving my legs until i get back on the bike. until then, i am not a cyclist. i'll spare you a photo, but take my word for it.
i have gotten back on the trainer. three whole times.
the first time was about 2-weeks post-op and i felt pretty hardcore because i was going to stay fit through my recovery. it sucked. i couldn't put any weight on the handlebars with my right arm so i alternated between sitting upright and grabbing the stem with my left hand. i guess it might have looked kinda gangsta-style. well, upon further consideration, it did not look kinda gansta-style. the scar tissue on my shoulder prevented me from wearing bib straps on both shoulders so i kicked Andre The Giant-style.
it was never quite clear to me why Mr. The Giant sported this style, but this was one of at least three things about 1980s professional wrestling that i never quite figured out. i should also note that if you are in a similar predicament, the second suspender of bibshorts actually makes a decent sling if you kinda wrap it around your elbow.
since then, i've been able to support myself with both arms and have done some intervals. but riding the trainer still sucks. i'd almost rather be slow than ride a trainer. it's also difficult because i don't have a cycling computer or a heartrate monitor so i can't really tell if i'm actually working very hard. it kinda feels like i'm working. i seem to sweat a lot. but i also sweat while playing Ms. Pac-Man and during conversations. i'm sweating now writing this.
i've been data-free for the past summer, and i've liked it. there are enough local group rides that when i need to work hard, there are fast people who will kick my ass and when i need to chill, there are enough chill people who will refrain from kicking my ass. but it's too easy to slack without some sort of feedback. so i ordered a cycling computer.
in the meantime, i've been back to running. running is good fun, but it's a poor-man's cycling (literally). not to mention, the apparel is not as cool as cycling--or professional wrestling, for that matter.
yesterday, i ran into my clavicular-doppelganger, the Tomax to my Xamot, Geoff, at wholefoods. he broke his left collarbone a couple of weeks before i broke my right one. however, he had some concerns about how his was healing. apparently, our amateur drunken diagnosis session at Linus and Margaret's party on saturday night was confirmed by a visit to a professional doctor: his collarbone was healing kinda fucked up and they would need to operate. this is shitty news for Geoff, since he was about 6 weeks into his recovery and would have been mostly healed if they had operated in the first place. but, now, they need to go back and plate him up, sending him back to week zero.
best wishes for a speedy re-recovery, Geoffy. and to everyone else, keep riding and enjoying the hell out of it!