A nice Saturday morning. Perfect weather for a bike ride. Heading towards the fruit region of our province to admire blooming apple, pear and cherry trees. Flowers turning towards the sun, soaking up as much light and warmth as possible. In a couple of weeks those flowers will have turned into fruit, bending the branches with their weight. Tons of healthy things will be harvested here, and distributed all over the world.
So we hop on our bikes, with nothing to worry about. It’s a bit chilly at the start, but soon the sun comes out and warms my fingers. I feel good, my legs are feeling great. Really, the more kilometers done, the better I feel.
I’m riding from one group to another, going faster and faster. About 40 kilometers from the finish, I end up in a bunch of 50 riders. This is my pack. The closer we get to the finish, the more people start having troubles. 133 fast kilometers are taking their toll. It’s going too fast for more and more guys. Time for me to stay in the first ten of this pack. I don’t want to be surprised by other people leaving a gap that I can’t close anymore.
But then, in a split second, I am surprised after all. The guy in front of me gives up, and swings to the right. I can’t avoid him anymore. At a speed of almost 45 km/hour my front wheel crashes into the rear end of his bike. I’m breaking, but it’s too late. I’m flying through the air, and land head first on the tarmac. “Thank God I’m wearing a helmet” flashes through my mind. I see a rear wheel passing by, brackets touching my body, a front wheel crashing into my back. The sound of metal hitting the asphalt. Seven or eight riders tumbling and falling. And then, for half a second, complete silence, followed by ooh’s and aaaah’s. I hear my friend saying: “David, are you alright?” I can’t find the breath to answer his question. He asks the same question again. And only after the third time I can whisper “No, I’m not.” I try to get up. Impossible, although I don’t feel pain. I grab towards my shoulder, and then realize: I’ve got one of the most common injuries amongst bike riders. Right underneath my skin, I can feel the sharp edge of a broken collarbone.
So we hop on our bikes, with nothing to worry about. It’s a bit chilly at the start, but soon the sun comes out and warms my fingers. I feel good, my legs are feeling great. Really, the more kilometers done, the better I feel.
I’m riding from one group to another, going faster and faster. About 40 kilometers from the finish, I end up in a bunch of 50 riders. This is my pack. The closer we get to the finish, the more people start having troubles. 133 fast kilometers are taking their toll. It’s going too fast for more and more guys. Time for me to stay in the first ten of this pack. I don’t want to be surprised by other people leaving a gap that I can’t close anymore.
But then, in a split second, I am surprised after all. The guy in front of me gives up, and swings to the right. I can’t avoid him anymore. At a speed of almost 45 km/hour my front wheel crashes into the rear end of his bike. I’m breaking, but it’s too late. I’m flying through the air, and land head first on the tarmac. “Thank God I’m wearing a helmet” flashes through my mind. I see a rear wheel passing by, brackets touching my body, a front wheel crashing into my back. The sound of metal hitting the asphalt. Seven or eight riders tumbling and falling. And then, for half a second, complete silence, followed by ooh’s and aaaah’s. I hear my friend saying: “David, are you alright?” I can’t find the breath to answer his question. He asks the same question again. And only after the third time I can whisper “No, I’m not.” I try to get up. Impossible, although I don’t feel pain. I grab towards my shoulder, and then realize: I’ve got one of the most common injuries amongst bike riders. Right underneath my skin, I can feel the sharp edge of a broken collarbone.
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