It looks like I will be taking up a new sport. Why? Because I crashed. I hit the pavement. I wadded it up. I bit the dust. I wrecked. I took a nose dive. I crumpled the paper. I wiped out. I failed, epically.
On June 25th of 2011, I was in a local race at Floyd Bennett Field in Coney Island in the fair borough of Brooklyn. 80 racers in a Cat. 4 race. Three laps to go, I went off the front for a while, parce-que I had some excess energy that I needed to donate to the road. Last lap, I felt good, was riding about 25th wheel when two guys tried to tune my front wheel with their handlebars. Basically, I was taken out. I was choiceless in the matter. It’s not like I had to swerve to avoid them. They dove into my front wheel. I went ass-over-teakettle. About 8 guys went down. I had the worst of it.
How did I know that I got the worst of it? Because some guy said, “Oh, shit, look at that dude!” I turned around and nobody was behind me. I was that dude. I could see my left shoulder in a place that was not good. Not good at all.
Here’s what my shoulder looked like few weeks later:
Here’s what a close-up looks like:
Here’s what the x-ray revealed: An AC separation. No, it was not dislocated (nice try amateur orthopedic surgeons!). No, it was not broken, you part-time physical therapists.
What you are looking at is a Category 2–out of 5 categories– (I always wanted to be a Cat. 2 rider!) AC separation. That stands for Acromioclavicular Joint Separation.
A close friend said that frozen wet diapers work really well on sore shoulders:
She was right, but the embarrassment factor does come into play.
Scraps tries to run (again, after a
20 year 29 year hiatus) with not much success.