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Lady Train: Tail Of A Terrible Crash

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Lady Train

Lady Train: Tail Of A Terrible Crash

So many of my crash stories begin with, “while biking at Whistler” and “apparently, I had crazy eyes.” This story is no different, except that I can say both phrases in one sentence. So, here it begins; one summer while up at my favorite riding destination, Whistler Bike Park. I was riding with my friend Janine, when we happened across a crew of cats, Kat’s Crew to be exact. We figured us ladies should surely combine forces and ride some laps together. The plan was to warm up on Crank-It-Up and then hit Freight Train.

I positioned myself toward the back of the Kat pack, so as not to hold back any of the lady pinners. I got to watch the ladies ahead of me hit jump after jump like a slinky effect down the lower section of Crank-It-Up. Warm up done, next stop Freight Train. This is a trail I knew pretty well back then. I knew its weaknesses at the top, its hits in the middle, and the sweet spots towards the end. But, what I didn’t know was the amount of adrenaline running through my veins at the time. On occasion, I’ve been known for not being able to dial it back and relax (i.e., crazy eyes, according to my boyfriend).

By the time we got to the top of the lift I was wound up tighter than a jack-in-the-box (not the food chain). Here is the part of the story where I blame the no-berm-turn for my crash. Never mind that the lady train ahead of me, whom are all skilled to the nines, had no issues rounding that turn. The turn, by the way, was littered with loose shale and rock. Rounding the corner, my bike skid over the scree, down I went, and what seemed like nothing turned into something kind of gross. I noticed a one-inch sized rock sticking out of my leg. I gave the rock a tug, but it wasn’t going anywhere. I was close enough to the top of the lift, that I was able to push my bike back up. As luck would have it, there was a medic at the top who gladly gave me a ride to the clinic.

Personally, I like the clinic at Whistler. Everyone there has been riding in the park and has a good story to tell. That day, I met a surgical resident with a broken collarbone and a guy who had broken his wrist. Needless to say, I felt pretty lucky with just a rock sticking out of my leg. Visits to clinics in Whistler are always a different experience. Once the doctor removed the rock, he told me to get in the shower and clean the wound for 10 minutes. He wanted me…to clean my own nasty wound. With no watch on hand, I guessed that it had already been ten minutes. Not according to the doctor, who said that it had only been three minutes. I’m one of those people who just believes in letting dirt ooze out by itself. (In other words, don’t touch it!)

This simple crash took me off my bike for three freaking weeks! I’m much better at cornering now thanks to all the women’s clinics at Whistler. I’m left with a nasty scar that people look at and never question. And, if you were wondering, yes it is full of dirt. Only people with the don’t touch it syndrome will understand.

Natty

(Sorry to say, I have no photos of that day)

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