Bliss, followed by Disaster

Made my first trek of the season up to my beloved Nederland mountain bike trails on Saturday. 7am bus from Denver to Boulder, then the 8am bus up to Ned. I couldn't believe my eyes when I spied my old friend, former co-worker, bike racer extraordinaire, current Crested Butte resident and all around amazing girl Eszter also waiting for the Ned bus. She and (equally great) Chris were back on the Front Range for the weekend, and she was heading up to handily dominate the Single Speed USA event. She went off to race, I went off to ride, but we crossed paths a few times throughout the day and I eventually made my way to the race finish to say congrats and interlope with the lovely, wacky world of single-speed mt. bikers. Good times, great riding, wonderful folks. I was finally getting my mountain skills back, riding well both up and down and having a blast. 4hrs, 4000 vert ft climbing.

Then the disaster- back down in Boulder, riding back to catch the bus home via the bikepath. Distractedly looking over my shoulder, a momentary bit of carelessness, and  WHAM!!  I was picking myself up off the ground before I'd even realized that my handlebar had clipped a handrail and made my intimate acquaintance with the concrete path. What I quickly realized next was that my left elbow was not what it had been a few seconds earlier. Immediate swelling, a really funky feeling when bending it, and no strength to support myself with it. Not good.

Pedaled myself to the Boulder Emergency Room for evaluation and x-rays. My heart sunk when the nurse eventually walked back in with a right-to-the-point, "You need surgery." I'd broken the end of the olecranon, which is the "cup" part of the ball-and-socket joint.

broken and displaced 2cm:  fracture is visible directly above "20.0mm (P)"  (click photo to enlarge)

They put me in a splint and released me to follow up with my Kaiser Permanente insurance provider. I rode back to catch the bus to Denver, rode from the bus home. Pain was never bad, just felt like a bad bruise even without painkillers. Maybe that's a good sign?

Dad taught me to ride without training wheels when I was only 3 years old... I've spent the following 29 years riding year round, my primary hobby and my passion. For the past 11 years I've earned a meager but comfortable living as a bike messenger, making deliveries day in, day out, in any and every weather condition imaginable. 29 years, countless crashes- some pretty scary and severe, most mild and dumb. Today was only the third time I've ever needed medical attention from a bike wreck (the first, coincidentally, was for stitches on my right elbow when I was about 13.)

So now it's time to wait for an appointment at my Orthopedic Fracture Clinic in Denver.....