Once the strapline for a breakfast cereal, now torturously re-appropriated for the bone splattering event following a sequence of events best summarised by “a skills deficiency discovered immediately prior to impact“.

That’s my left half of my collarbone. Or at least what’s left of it.  Before we get into the how, it’s worth winding back to a recently much voiced aphorism and a quieter feeling of general unease occasionally veering towards anxiety.

“I’m not prepared to lose a summer” is my go-to maxim when making excuses atop a scary looking obstacle. The inner version of that goes something like “how many of those summers do I have left before riding it was even an option“. That’s one little death just 999 cuts short of giving up on the kind of riding that’s defined good chunks of my life for getting on 30 years.

There’s a cruel dichotomy hidden in plain sight. Amazing bikes and decades of experience opens up technical terrain fissured with lines with the potential to close off that exact type of riding for an extended period.  Better to step back from the edge, citing age inspired rationale or retain an adrenaline fuelled appetite for risk? Somewhere in between is where most of us land.  Until that landing is hard and consequential.

I’ve written about this before– but this year a combination of lacking confidence and that Damocles sword edging into almost every ride has me actively considering shuffling a little closer to the less risky side of that line. I know myself well enough to accept that choosing the harder path never comes easy.  But I mostly keep doing it. For now.

Somewhat annoyingly the ride of bone snappage nearly didn’t happen at all. My friend Olli was due to fly from Germany in less than a week for 4 days of riding – hoping I could repay his hospitality from my trip earlier this year.

That, and having been away the previous weekend in Wales – where again I really wasn’t feeling it; like riding with crash anxiety stuffed in the Camelbak – plus having collected a recovering but very sick dog who’d spent 4 days in the Animal hospital in Bristol – had me questioning if another days riding was the wisest choice.

FOMO overrode vague foreboding though, preceded with a good talking too about – somewhat ironically in hindsight – coming home with my shield or on it. Less thinking, more commitment. Fewer excuses, more stuff ticked off. Remember what I love about this, try and forget what happens if it goes wrong.

Because it doesn’t often go wrong. Two hospitalisations in three decades. Uncountable lucky escapes or minor crashes that could have been so much worse. Many, many things ridden that felt on the edge or beyond my ability. And yet I just couldn’t shake the feeling something was a bit off. This is not back protection, it was surfaced more as apathy than anxiety, what it wasn’t is the excitement that’s always been locked in with the prospect of a great ride in perfect conditions.

So the ride. Got my first crash in early with a tree clipping apex sending me into a rotten stump retaining sufficient solidity to punt me off the side. No damage done- conversely it improved my confidence that crashing was fine especially as I was actually riding a bit better, and had just been caught out by things turning up a bit quicker than expected.

Easy trails up tho this point tho. That was about to change. We climbed up the other side of the valley with Steve suggesting a new trail he’d ridden the week before. Had a qualifier jump that was definitely not rollable, and a slab that “needs commitment“. I took a look at the jump, but not the slab.

Jump went well, definitely starting to feel good on the bike following Matt onto a tricky little rock section close to the edge of something you don’t want to fall into. Instead navigate that with careful positioning to align the bike onto the fall line. This must be the slab Steve’s talking about I thought as Matt accelerated away.

Further thoughts in my head went something like “questionable grip, stay off the brakes, that catch berm looks a bit small, might struggle to get it stopped once I’m off the slab, oh well we’re half way down so… oh fuck there’s a big hole on the slab exit, how am I going to clear that bastard….”

With a simple front wheel lift. Ably demonstrated by Matt and Steve.  Not in my core skill set when heading downhill fast and timing is everything. Or in my case nothing which is exactly what I did dropping the front wheel into the hole at which point physics provided a practical demonstration of momentum transfer.

I wasn’t a passenger tho. As I’d already exited the vehicle.  The classic collarbone break is the instinctive hand out to protect the head, that hand impacting the ground, transferring that energy up the arm where an unstoppable force meets a very much movable object. That being your clavicle. Now available as a two part unit.

That’s an accident I’ve been involved in**, but it wasn’t this one. Instead a full airborne 180 degree rotation  before slamming into the unyielding ground on my back – where my back protector definitely saved further injury – and stopping almost instantly. That’s some blunt force trauma right there and even in my dazed state I knew damage had been done.

What I pretended hadn’t happened tho is what’s obvious on the x-ray. It really didn’t hurt that much (and still doesn’t). I was even able to get my shirt off so Matt could have a prod at the new suspicious lump I’d acquired***. It wasn’t until later the full extent of the injury – and the consequences of that – became fully apparent.

That’s for another time. Short version is I’ve definitely lost the summer and maybe quite a lot more. There’s decisions to be made, but not in haste. I spent the first two days in pointless “what if” and “why didn’t I” wish fulfilment. Since then I’ve made my peace with it. Ride the stuff we do for long enough and you’re going to catch a big one. It’s absolutely worth it, even when the only bike I’m riding for quite a long time is tethered to my turbo trainer.

I am SO BORED tho. I need to find a one handed hobby. No not that one, but thank you for your recommendations 😉

*this is a whole other post. Along with a minor house flood that came along about the same time. Maybe I should have seen the signs 😉

**in the x-ray you can see a bit of bone floating about from when that happened.

***Apart from offering dodgy medical advice (“that’ll be fine“), Steve and Matt were proper mates- Steve pushing my bike up the hill and buying me a pint while Matt fetched the “Vanbulance” to take me to A&E.