by charlieelise Jul 2nd 2012
Yesterday I crashed. My worst so far.
I was doing 46kmph downhill in Richmond Park.
I've done this hill numerous times before. I'm always cautious. I checked my brakes. But as I turned the corner, a car was way over the double white lines (that means no overtaking, by the way). It was overtaking a cyclist on the other side. I saw the driver. Looking at the cyclist on his left.
He never saw me, because I swerved to avoid his silver car which was in my path. But then I lost control and came off, sliding along the sharp tarmac in my shorts and beautiful starry jersey...
He didn't see me and he didn't stop.
And I was annoyed with myself. I shouldn't have lost control. I should have remained calm. Shoulda, woulda... all that nonsense.
It's been 24 hours now and I'm hurting. The road rash on my arms and leg is... extensive. The bruising is only just beginning to come out. I have lumps I didn't have before.
But I realise now I was lucky.
As I fell my handlebars slipped and I landed on my thigh and elbow. Not my delicate hand, which would have been crushed.
I broke no bones. My thin, pale skin is grazed and burned but it is not split and torn.
I landed last on my head. Which was protected by a well fitting, well made helmet.
There was no traffic behind me. A lady stopped to help me up. She picked up my tyre levers from the road.
I rode home. My bike survived with only a slightly wonky handlebar which I straightened out myself.
I live to ride another day.
And I rode today.
I never really rode a bike as a kid, and was generally very unsporty and chubby. So naturally, now I do triathlons. I try to raise some money once a year too, chuck something in the bucket here: