Travis Furman

I actually had another blog I was going to post–a draft I suppose I will save for next week, now. I even hired an editor! Hiring may be a bit deceptive, as she wasn’t paid…but I was really doin’ things. Instead, though, I guess we’ll settle for this. There aren’t gonna be any pics, sorry.

I’ve had a lot of things going on recently. Basically since Christmas, my life has been a tumultuous tangled mess of stress and unforeseen difficulty. But that all was coming to a close, and this weekend was a time to get back on track, and get back to what I wanted to do: namely, ride my bike. I hadn’t found a lot of opportunity to train, and so I really wanted to put in some time this weekend. The plan was to do 10 hours and as many kilometers and climbs in that time as possible.

Friday night JT and I discussed where we would go. I voiced concerns about riding from our house–there is a great loop we can do, but a good deal of it is heavily treed or in a canyon, so the chance of hitting snow or ice was high. We both agreed that it would be wiser to take a bit of a flatter, and less-risky approach. Tentatively we decided to ride from Golden to Boulder and back with as many climbs as possible in that time. Soon thereafter I fell asleep, wanting to rest before my first big day on the bike in some time.

Saturday morning came quickly, but I felt good. My form was high, mostly because my fatigue was low, so my legs were ready to go. I fried a couple of eggs, put them on toast with some salsa and cheese, and washed it down with coffee. JT got up shortly thereafter. His first words to me were, “So are we riding from here?”

I replied that I would be leaving from Golden. There was someone coming to look at our open room that afternoon, so I told him that I didn’t want to pressure him into riding in Golden if he didn’t want to, but explained that after the couple of weeks that I had had, I wanted a good ride without doing 15 circles around Chatfield Reservoir. He agreed, but said since he had to meet the potential roommate that we should take separate cars. We loaded up and drove to Golden. I had good music playing and the heat on, and I was excited to finally be getting back on track.

We encountered a little bit of ice, but we made our way to Lookout and started climbing. Right at the pillars, I told him I would be doing an effort on the climb and wanted to start it at an even 20 minutes, so I turned around and told him to go on. I did one minute at 400 watts and the following 7 at about 325 (I haven’t yet uploaded my data, but this is a good ballpark) and then slowed down. JT wasn’t very far behind, so he caught me fairly quickly after I had finished and told me that he was going for a PR. I told him I would draft him for a couple of minutes, then pace him with anything I had left. We finished the climb strong, but with time not on our side, we decided it would be in our interest to get down the mountain and headed to Boulder as quickly as possible.

Despite our time restrictions, that was the slowest I have seen him descend. We both said more than once that it would be foolish to crash in January and took unnecessary caution. We got down the hill and started the rolling road north on 93. I was thinking that the shoulder was narrower than I remembered, but it wasn’t a problem. Cars were affording us ample room, the sun, after banging on them for the first hour of our ride, had finally shattered the clouds and was now illuminating the Colorado landscape, and we were about to come to the highest point between Golden and Boulder–it would all be downhill from there. We were making jokes, feeling strong, and happy to be out riding. We were on top of one hill descending to the bottom of the next one.

But then something felt weird. We were going north on 93, and there was a silver SUV that was headed south on 93 and making a left turn. She was going very slow, but she was still going. Was she trying to go after me, but before JT? That was the only thing that made sense. But she was turning too quickly. I had already been on the brakes at that point, but we were descending, so I had a lot of speed to dump. I quickly realized I would never stop in time.

Generally I am vocal to cars when I am on my bike. I’m not angry…I know lots of people who constantly flip cars off, or yell at them, but I am just more defensive. I’ve gotten drivers’ attention by yelling and making my presence known, so it was my second nature to try and do that again, here. I was yelling, and getting louder as I grabbed more brake. Her windows were up, and I’m sure she had the radio on. She didn’t hear me. As my wheels started to slide, my yells became more desperate. I don’t really remember what I was saying, but it was along the lines of, “come on, are you not going to stop?” It was as loud as I could yell.

And then she hit me. The front left corner of her car hit my left calf and the back of my bike, spinning it around and launching my right side into the ground. I remember hitting my head and rolling. I slid to a stop on my back.

(warning, colorful language ahead)

Fairly quickly I realized that I was in one piece, so I rolled over onto my stomach, still yelling, and slammed my hands on the pavement. These yells weren’t desperate, though. They were enraged and resentful.

“What the FUCK?” I continued to yell, not really sure of what I was saying. There was lots of swearing, and lots of noises that probably aren’t words.

I pushed myself to my feet and walked out of the middle of the road to the side. I quickly realized I couldn’t walk anymore and sat down. I also realized now that JT was yelling too. He probably had been since I started. It was something along the lines of “Are you fucking serious??” He sounded angry.

The girl was young, and scared. She got out of her car and started profusely apologizing. Then she said “I didn’t see you…”

I couldn’t look at her.

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU NOT SEE ME?” I added emphasis on those words, thinking it would help. It didn’t.

“I’m calling 911,” she said.

By this time JT had calmed down and was asking me what hurt. I told him I couldn’t bike home and we would need to get a ride. We looked at my left leg. It hurt, and it looked kinda bad, but not as bad as it felt. I asked him to take off my right leg warmer so I could compare the two, the idea being that if something was broke I would notice the difference in size, shape, etc. Meanwhile, I was keeping an ear on the conversation she was having with the dispatcher to see what she was saying. Honestly I’m surprised I was thinking even somewhat clearly at this point. Later I wouldn’t be.

After comparing my two legs, I told JT that I thought I would be ok, and asked him to look at my bike, then I apologized for ruining the ride. He dutifully did, just after telling me not to be sorry. I think I apologized to him four or five more times. Before the girl was off the phone, I could see flashing lights heading south on 93 towards us.

The officer had a few words with her, then came over and started talking to me. He told me to remain calm, and that an ambulance was on its way. I grabbed my bottle and started spraying water the various visible cuts. I finally got up the courage to look at her. She was crying.

Shortly thereafter, I decided I needed to go look at my bike. I got up and started to walk back into the road. Walking turned out to be more of a hop with my left foot in contact with the ground for stabilization. I wasn’t moving fast, or gracefully. But despite the officer telling me to relax and sit down, I made it to my bike. It was broken in multiple places. The officer told me to sit back down, then offered to let me sit in his car. As I did, I saw a firetruck arriving. I don’t know why, but my heart sank. I didn’t need a firetruck. I needed her to buy me a new bike, and I needed to go home and lay on the couch. Tears started to fill my eyes. It wasn’t the pain–though I am sure that had something to do with it. More than anything, I was frustrated. Why did this happen? I had been off the bike, getting slower each day. I had been stressed about various things. That was finally behind me, and today was the first chance that I had to turn things around…it was to be the first step in the right direction. I wanted to just be able to get a good ride in today. I just wanted to catch a break and have something go right.

The fireman asked me if I was wearing a helmet, he poked and prodded my head, back, ribs, chest, and stomach. During this time the ambulance arrived, as well as more police. JT said his parents were on their way.

Seemingly satisfied, the fireman brought me over to the ambulance where they proceeded to do the same thing to me. They took my vitals–my blood pressure and heart rate were through the roof. They started asking me questions. For some reason it took me a moment to recall who the president was, but when they asked how much six quarters equaled, I knew right away. That’s what I get for working in a bank, I guess. They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, and I said no. When they asked why, I didn’t really know what to say. “I don’t need to,” I said. “…and…I just want to go home.”

The next hour was spent trying to warm me up, and with many people asking me the same questions. One officer asked me if I was wearing a seatbelt. I paused, unsure of what to say. I didn’t want to make him feel stupid. “Well, I-I was on the bike, and it doesn’t have one…” I stammered. At this point, my words were shaky. I was shivering uncontrollably despite the ambulance having been warmed to 37 degrees Celsius. I wondered why they were using celsius, but didn’t ask. I was almost too wound up to function. The police officer smiled a bit and told me he was joking.

They took my statement, told me she would be cited, and told me JT was filling out a witness testimony. His parents were here by now and had loaded up my bike and gear (I had been asked to take off everything except my bibshorts when I got in the ambulance) and brought me a winter jacket. I guess while I was in the ambulance, the paramedics had to go check out the girl, she was crying so hard and freaking out so bad. I started to feel bad for her.

I told all of this to my friends Kennett and Adelaide, but when I was about to get to this part, I paused. Before I continued, something else was said, and we moved on. They had joked that I would have been too nice, and that if I was angry I would still be too nice, saying something like “Mam, I’m not happy with you.” I smiled, amused, but also painfully aware of how true their portrayal of me could have been. I told them that I yelled, and that JT had yelled, too. But I didn’t tell them that afterwards, when she came to apologize to me in person, I gave her a hug. I really have no idea how it was possible to not see me. In my mind it would have been impossible. But I know for the last 5 or 10 seconds before impact I was looking directly at her, yelling at her, and trying to get her attention, but she was not looking at me. She should have paid more attention, for sure. She should have been more alert. But she didn’t want to spend her Saturday like that. I told her I was ok, and then I left.

Since we had taken separate cars, I asked one of JT’s parents to drive my car home. I was too shaken up. I rode with his mom, who took care of me like my own mom would, in my car. When we got home with all 3 cars, they unloaded everything for me. His dad talked to me, gave me a hug, told me to rest. After thanking them again, they left, and JT and I came inside. I gave him a long hug.

I’m a day removed, and to be “basic”, as all the youths are calling it, I feel #blessed. If I had been hit more squarely I would have been knocked forward in front of the vehicle, instead of spun out of its way. If JT had been right on my wheel as he had been 2 minutes before, we both would have been hit. I can walk now, and as long as I keep taking Ibuprofen, the pain is manageable. I’m sore all over, but my helmet saved my head, and aside from bruising, road rash, and a swollen lower leg, I am pretty unscathed. They were initially worried about a concussion but I think that it is minor, if extant. I posted on social media that I had been hit…and the outpouring of messages, texts, calls, etc has been overwhelming. Yesterday, especially immediately following the crash, I thought the world was coming down around me. My friends showed me it wasn’t. I can’t tell them how much that means to me.

In addition to feeling lucky, I feel motivated. For some strange reason, this solidified my resolve. I’m gonna get back in shape. If an SUV can’t stop that, a few missed days of riding won’t. I was (pathetically) attempting one legged squats today, putting my leg through the full range of motion, stretching, and massaging it. I’m coming back soon. This isn’t gonna keep me down.

Travis Furman

I talk about bikes and the places they take me.

Greatness from Small Beginnings

New Bikes and an Unrelated Story

The List

The Accident

Memories

A fire is burning

The Light of Denussan redux

The Light of Denussan

September

Crash and burn