Whew! No Surgery!

I've been dealing with pain in my groin area for 2-3 months now and finally figured that if it was serious I better find out for sure and get things taken care of.  I had a Physical Therapist bend me seven ways from Sunday and even though I had some pain, it wasn't enough to make me jump off the table, which I know he was secretly shooting for. I was instructed to follow his stretching routine, which I have religiously, but it just wasn't getting better after three weeks.

On the advice of the Physical Therapist, I started my search for a specialist in the area of sports hernias.  After getting opinions on who to go to, I chose one in Yankton and made the appointment.  I have to admit, I was extremely nervous.  I really expected the worst and hadn't told hardly any body except my wife and a few people in my cycling class about my issue.

The doctor took his time in checking the area and completed all of the typical hernia checks (turn your head and cough anybody???).  In the end, he was satisfied that I did NOT have a hernia.  He did state that he could tell by the way I twitched hard when he dug in the adductors that they were WAY too tight and inflamed.  He asked what my current workout regimen was and I told him honestly.  It was like telling your parents that you broke something in the house.  Needless to say, I'll be taking it easy, along with 2400mg of ibuprofen for the next two weeks (at least).

Below is a picture of the area in question.  They are not some of the bigger muscles you have, but let me tell you, they can be incredibly painful when inflamed.  It's tough to become the "aging athlete", but it's better than being a couch monkey.

Injury Update

Nine days after I dumped my bike and I'm not exactly impressed with my progress. As a matter of fact, today had a couple of really painful moments for no particular reason. The kind that had me drop 1000mg of Tylenol.

I took a couple of pictures, but it's hard to see the bruising I still have. The amazing part of the bruise is that it bruised on BOTH sides of my arm. Currently the most daily pain I have is putting my socks on. I can't explain it, but it is just brutal. The pain shoots all the way to my shoulder.

The other thing that caused excruciating pain was when Carson got on the Trail-a-Bike yesterday to go to school before I was ready and it shifted left. I had to hold it up or I would have dumped the bike with him on it. It's been a long time since I have come that close to crying. My arm throbbed until about noon and that might be part of my issue today. Whatever the case, this sucks and I want to go for a REAL ride, not just commuting/errand miles. Can't you just sense how crabby I am?

This is the side I landed on. Tough to see the big brown bruise through all my man-fur.


This is the back side. A couple days ago it had all the colors of the rainbow.


I shall return...soon.

Out of the Saddle

Out of the saddle...for just a week or so. The prognosis is better than expected. Even though the battery of tests done to me before the X-Ray even had the PA expecting a break, it turns out that all I really have is a hairline fracture and some small bone chips that might not even be from this injury. Lots of deep bruising strain on the old muscles. He applauded me for knowing not to stick out and try to catch my fall with my wrist. SOMEBODY else could learn from me!

The worst is when he had me try to squeeze his fingers and he rotated my arm for a supination test. I about screamed! The X-Ray tech wasn't much better as he contorted me in all the ways that already hurt.

I admit this was better than I expected. I expected it to be fractured and in a sling for a few days. If I wouldn't have went, my arm would probably be screwed up for life. Since I went, everything's fine. I'll take that trade off I guess.

I might not be ready for the Intramural bike race, but the important rides will still see my smiling face. I can't miss the Margarita Ride or Schnoctobeerfest. They are two of the biggest fall classics in the area!

It's Just a Flesh Wound

The story behind the previous story you read HERE. Doctor appointment at 9:15. Update to follow.

I was the best damn combat cyclist there was. There I was preparing to bravely go across enemy lines (get on Catalina Ave right outside my house)
I was only a short distance inside of enemy lines (about two houses away) when I started to question if some of my weapons of mass destruction --real ones, not like the ones Iraq supposedly had-- might be slowing me down (why did I put my bike lock in my shorts pocket? I'm not stopping anywhere that I'll need to lock up my bike?!?!) I realized that I must remove this potential threat before I accidentally got killed or killed other friendlies(I don't need the lock...I think I'll stop and remove it from my pocket and take it home).

As I started to reach into my pocket to remove some of my WMD stash (take the lock out) I hear the voices of the enemy swiftly infiltrating from the West (Carson was walking down the sidewalk and screamed "HI DADDY!"). I flinched and was in the process of dropping a tactical nuke (my lock) to the ground when I started taking sniper fire (I had to switch hands on the handlebars/brakes so I could catch the lock falling out of my pocket and still try to stop in one swift motion).

Bullets were flying everywhere (I dropped the lock anyway) and then I took a mortar shell to the back wheel of my bike (I squeezed the front brake a little too tight and the back wheel popped off the ground and swung to the side) and I was thrown about fifty yards (damn bike nearly fell on top of me). By the grace of God I was only hit by sniper fire on my steel pot (I have a nice dent in my helmet from thumping my melon on the road) but I survived with nary a scratch thanks to the people who invented Kevlar for my lid (the people at Bell who constructed such a fine helmet).

The enemy was celebrating their conquest of the fallen bicyclist (Carson, my neighbors, and a couple girls walking by) with even a slight laugh from one the enemy combatants (I think it was one of neighbor girls). The crack medical staff risked their own lives to pull me out of harms way (Laura came running out to help me up as I laid sprawled out on the pavement). I could see by the look on her face that I might not make it although she tried to comfort me (she really did look worried).

It was then I noticed at least three open compound fractures with blood gushing everywhere (a couple real minor scrapes but an arm that hurt terribly). It wasn't until I woke up from surgery the next morning (woke up in bed) that I realized that something was definitely not right (did I really break my arm?). Against Doctor's (Laura's) orders, I left straightaway to go right back into to my war duties as a combat cyclist (I rode my bike to work). There were many times throughout the day that I felt like I might succumb to my injuries (again, see the list on THIS post), but I soldiered on, making sure to leave it all on the battlefield.

When this war is over (tomorrow), I am sure to have my arm amputated and a prosthesis attached (x-ray'd) at Walter Reed Hospital (Sanford Vermillion Medical Clinic). I'm hoping for a full recovery so I can return once again to be a combat cyclist (healthy bike rider).

The moral of this little story is twofold:

1. Always wear your steel pot (helmet), unless I don't like you, then it's entirely up to you.

2. If your going to have a crash story, make it memorable (with minor artistic liberties to add spice)

Is it Broken or Not?

That has been the question of the day around work. Apparently the swelling in my arm and the fact that I have been keeping it tucked in tight to my body is a dead giveaway. Who'da'thunk? Just to make it even more obvious, the nice folks from the Physical Therapy department gave me a sling to keep my arm in this afternoon. The question of the day seems to be: Is it broken or not? The answer to the question is: undetermined at this juncture.

Working in the School of Health Sciences has it's definite advantages. I had a PA instructor look at it this morning, manipulate it around and say that he believes that I probably fractured the radial head. They also told me that if I go into the doctor that they will X-Ray it and if it is indeed fractured all they will do is put me in a sling and then basically tell me to lay low for a few days. Then I'll have to start use it sparingly otherwise the elbow will actually become more stiff and painful. Sounds good to me! No doctor is always a good thing!



Then I ran across a couple of the Physical Therapy faculty and they think I should get an X-Ray because they are worried about possible 'displacement'. I was a bit too busy today to think about going to the doctor anyway, so lets leave it in the sling for a day (or maybe two, or three) and I will then consider getting an X-Ray -- procrastination is a must when going to the doctor.

Things that I did that caused excruciating pain today (in no particular order):
* Putting my hand in my left pocket - I was lopsided after I figured this out. Moved everything to the right.
* Trying to open the cupboard door to get the cereal out.
* Any bump in the road that I was stupid enough to leave my hand on the handlebar for - you didn't really think that a little thing like a possible broken bone would stop "the streak" did you?
* Opening any door.
* Opening a bag of chips.
* Picking up my coffee cup for a drink (yeah, I eat/drink left handed)
* Zipping up my fly after a trip to the bathroom -- possibly TMI, but also about the most painful thing I did all day.

Tomorrow is decision day. Will it hurt bad enough to make me go to the Doctor? Should I go anyway? Should I "man up" and just suffer through it all?

Oh yeah! How did this all come about? That's a story of epic proportions that can only be told in it's own upcoming post.
SPOILER/MOVIE (coming soon to a theater near you!) TAGLINE: One man. One bicycle. One will to survive. Follow the epic struggles of Biking Brady as he traverses dangerous enemy terrain in a hail of sniper gunfire.

When Bikes Attack and Other Short Stories

Last night CDV and I got out on the Tandem and got in a nice 31 miler after work. We had a planned ride today posted to the group so I decided to clean up/tune up the road bike this morning and swap my pedals out to my new Crank Brothers Quattro Pro SL pedals.

That's when it all went wrong. My Look Keo pedals had probably been on my bike the better part of 10-13,000 miles and didn't really appreciate the thought of being separated. I tried gentle persuasion. They resisted. I tried a little more force and that's when it happened. The big ring attacked my hand. It snarled and barked and ripped my hand wide open. It bled pretty bad too. By the time I cleaned the wound enough to look at it, I knew I had better go have it looked at. I could see the tendon through the cut so I also knew it was not only wide, it was deep. I went into the Doctor's office at 10:30 and didn't get out until 12:30. Killer service. Yeah, that's sarcasm.

It didn't stop me from going on our planned group ride at 1:00, but I'm not going to kid you, my hand hurt pretty bad. Here is a picture of my three stitches:



The ride would prove brutal on the hand and the morale as we dealt with 25 mile per hour winds with stronger gusts. It was pretty violent but no matter what, it was GREAT to be out on the road! 30 miles of riding was a nice first group ride. Let the official riding season begin!

Weird, Wasted Day

This morning I came out of the bathroom, turned slightly, and WHO IN THE HECK JUST SUCKER PUNCHED ME IN THE BACK!?!?!?!??! I could hardly move, I was doubled over and I could hardly breathe. Laura rubbed it down a little and I struggled into work. I made it through the morning but ended up having a massage and a chiropractic adjustment along with 600 mg ibuprofen and a cyclobenzaprine (flexoril). The flexoril kicked in and I had to sleep for a bit. I missed a couple hours of work and I'm still kind of miserable. So miserable that I didn't go riding on the first 60 degree day of the year (other than commuting).

I don't know how to explain it other than I hurt like you would not believe. Sitting too long, reaching too fast, simple routine tasks all hurt terribly. Tomorrow I'm supposed to run a shoulder camera for the NCAA Division II Women's Regional tourney in the dome. We will see about that. It's all going to depend on the magic touches of my wonderful massage therapist tonight.

In other noise, Angela Olson from South Dakota Safe Routes to School is coming to town in a half hour to meet with a bunch of us. I informed the city about the opportunity and they jumped at it and invited her down. I'm impressed that the city responded so quickly to get the ball rolling. More on that meeting in my next post I'm sure.

The Dreaded Post

I don't usually apologize for not blogging, but in this case I will. I haven't blogged lately because I've been pouting and feeling sorry myself. Sometimes when you put pressure on yourself and you fall short, it hits you especially hard.

Most of you know that I was shooting for 10,000 miles this year. Cutting to the chase, it isn't going to happen. As a matter of fact, I'm shutting down rather drastically for a bit. I've been struggling for a while now with my back/neck issues and I just kept fighting (stubbornly) through chasing THE goal. Sometimes fighting through can be a good thing, but when it gets to the point where you get blurred vision, lose equilibrium, and can't sleep, it just might be a sign that you need to step back, heal, and go after it again. As a matter of fact, as I write this I'm hooked up to a TENS unit (electrical stimulation) trying to relieve some pain so I can function at work. I'm sitting at my desk, too pained to want to leave for lunch. I really screwed up by not listening to my body closer. Now I have to heal.

No more pity stories. After all, 9,000+ miles is still a pretty darn good consolation prize. On to the future. Next year resolutions will be:

* no logging miles (oh, I'm sure I'll have a *general* idea of my mileage)
* more time on the tandem with my wife and kids in an attempt to both spend more time with them and stimulate their interest in riding
* more time with wife and kids in general
* less worry about riding EVERY night and more focus on longer rides when I do ride
* more century-plus rides
* Gut Check 2008 (?) *Question Mark removed by gentle suggestion of Mr. Bite
* more bicycle advocacy
* more focus on our local bike club growth and structure
* using cycling for charitable purposes (MS Society, Big Friend/Little Friends, Ulcerative Colitis, etc)

See, I'm done pouting and now I'm looking forward to next year. There is therapy in blogging!

Ride on!

Staples - THAT was Easy

In the midst of all the Gut Check posts as of late, I failed to mention that a member of our family received three staples in his head. I was out for a "taper" ride for the Gut Check on a Friday night, a week before the race. Carson decided to barrel into an open screen door (on the skinny sharp side) and gash his head open. Laura called me and I was still about six miles out of town. My taper ride quickly became a dead sprint back to town to meet up with Laura and "The Grandma's" in the ER. He just got the staples out Monday. Pictures of the incident are below.

I'm here to tell you, that THESE staples are expensive. They cost about $250 each. You do the math.