The Dangers of Unconscious Competency

Photo:  The Indomitable Allan Howard, courtesy Allan himself. 

Musings from the keyboard of Allan Howard, Experienced Cyclist #001

I'll have to take a pass on riding with anyone for a while....

On Wednesday, August 5, I was training on my road bike in the hills of Oregonia, Ohio.  Regular hill work; an ascent followed by riding back down at full speed and doing it again…and again.  Contrary to what this story may suggest, I really am a skilled and experienced cyclist.  And yes, even skilled and experienced cyclists make mistakes and need to be prepared to survive a crash. 

What was my mistake?  I looked back mid-corner for my riding partner, who was behind me.   I had good body position on the bike, strong access to the brakes (in the drops), the pedals were weighted at three- and nine-o'clock, my butt was back and my shoulders were down.  Despite all that, I dropped my front wheel into a deep depression in the pavement (that I knew was there) and that changed my weight transfer drastically.

Why, as a cyclist with years of experience riding and racing, did I make that mistake?  Overconfidence.  I've been in a state of "unconscious proficiency" for decades, longer than I can remember, really.  Being in that state can lead you to believe there isn't anything you can't do.  Actually, that belief is what many times makes a task or skill "doable," so it isn't all bad.  The rub occurs when one is at that level and believes they can do anything; even while doing something else, say, for instance, looking over one's shoulder at 60+ feet per second (speed x 1.5 = feet per second).  The end goal is to develop unconscious proficiency; however, we must be vigilant that we remain focused on doing one thing at a time, and that one thing must always be the most critical task.

It is rare that beginners and intermediates fall prey to this; they are always looking to eliminate or minimize risks, as they should.  It is the experienced riders who no longer see what 98% of most cyclists would consider to be a risk as such.  On with the story. 

I was probably down to 40-45mph when the back came up and there was no saving it.  The grade on that portion of the hill is probably 11% or so; that meant hitting the ground wasn't going to happen right away.   Having crashed on descents in races, I knew what was coming and this is the best way I can describe it.

Imagine you’re with a couple of good buddies, riding in a car on an elevated freeway on-ramp at about 45mph.  They all have regular clothes on and you're wearing a Lycra "onesie".  Two of them throw you out of the car and you fall to the street below, tumbling to scrub off speed.  If you get the choice between that and what I did, take the “thrown out of the car” thing, because at least the street below is flat.  I'm no engineer, but when this kind of stuff happens, it seems like tumbling down a hill goes on longer than hitting a flat deck.  Meh, who knows; I'd have to see an internet argument thread on the subject before I could come to a decision. 

As soon as I stopped tumbling, I knew I was in trouble.  From experience, I knew I had broken ribs, a broken left hip and/or pelvis, and some serious road rash.  By the time my riding partner came upon me, it was getting hard to breathe, so I knew I'd punctured a lung and it was deflating.  Despite being in the middle of nowhere, an RN with a car full of nurse stuff stopped to help.  I told her what happened and what was wrong with me.  I knew I hadn't lost consciousness or awareness because I wasn't worried about getting a bike exchange and a "free lap" so I could re-join the race, despite having ridden my last one in 1997.  The RN and my riding partner looked at me like I had a horn growing out of my head when I told them I wanted a ride to my truck so I could drive to the VA Hospital in Dayton, 1.25 hours away.  Medical stuff costs money and you have no idea what kind of road bike you can buy for a five-day hospital stay.  

My breathing became more labored and I knew I didn't have any options.  I allowed them to call for an ambulance and I was removed to the nearest hospital.  The sum total?  Two fractured ribs (non-displaced), a punctured left lung and resultant pneumothorax, a broken pelvis on the left side (front and back), a large and deep hematoma on my left flank, and various patches of road rash that had to have gravel removed from them.   Two days in ICU followed by a few days in a step-down unit, and now I'm home.  I'm on a walker for six weeks or my pelvis will separate and "that would be bad," according to the ortho surgeon.  The way these guys throw around the words "a little discomfort," I don't even want to know what "that would be bad" means.

I said all that to say this, I will get better and will be as good as new.  I wish I could tell you nothing like this will ever happen again, but that just isn't the case.  I'm an 18-year old US Marine trapped in a 61-year-old man's body.  I'm near certain I'll have a hand in my own un-doing one day; yet I can't help myself.  The thrill of living for me is too great to pass up any opportunity, no matter how brief.  Besides, I like being strong enough to crash a bicycle at motorcycle speeds with six decades under my belt.   This is nothing but a bump in the road (or a depression in this case) and I'm absolutely the man for the job of getting over it.

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