A summer of solid training meant I was coming into good form. My power was increasing, I had some of my quickest times ever on the local hills and on top of that I had managed to hang onto the fast guys averaging 25mph on our Thursday night chaingangs. There was less than a month to go until the Scottish road race champs which had been one of my target races of the year. I had my eyes set on a podium which would hopefully put me in a good place for the stage race, the Ras, in Ireland just a week later. However, in a matter of seconds my racing goals for the rest of the year came crashing down with me.
On Saturday, the 21st July I woke up early as usual to join the Stirling club ride. I met the tempo group riders but unfortunately the numbers were too big for us all to ride together. To help them out, we split the numbers and I joined the fast tempo group to even it out. It wasn't a bad decision at first and it proved how good I was actually going at the time. One of the guys is super strong and he volunteered to ride on the front for us most of the ride so I instantly jumped on his wheel knowing he would be the best rider to follow. He's a strong rider but very consistent and I knew if I stuck to his wheel I would get round the ride ok. I hung on well and kept with the group on the hills too which was a first for me, this told me that I was fitter than I had ever been and I was beginning to get excited about my coming races. We covered around 40 miles before taking a quick stop in a valley. The group then decided to split again where half the group chose to go back along the flats and others were wanting to go a bit further and get some more hills in. I was indecisive at first because we already had quite a way to get back but I was thinking about my coming goals. Hills would be better for me at this point and I knew with how my legs felt, that another 20 miles wouldn't stop me managing to get home. I barely felt like I had done 10 miles, my legs were so responsive and I felt strong. I agreed to go and get some more hills in the legs. We parted ways and five of us headed out to the infamous Crow Road.
Not knowing the climb ahead, I settled into my own rhythm as the others tore away ahead. I kept them in my sights though and when I reached the top I knew that it had been a good effort. You always know in yourself, when a session is good and when your just getting by. Today was one of my best days ever on the bike and I was loving it, perhaps that is why the ride took an unexpected turn? We regrouped at the top of the climb and set off together for the descent: my favorite part. After all the pain, it is thrilling to speed down twisty descents and enjoy the roads properly. Just you and the bike and the blurry scenery around. We took off at quite a speed. One of the guys was starting to get away ahead a bit and I dived after him. I could tell he wanted to make the most of the descent too. My racing instinct was dramatically kicking in. I was pedaling like mad after him, as fast as i could go and getting low over the bars where I could. I caught him and took the front as he lost his foot from the pedal, he saved it well though after a sinking feeling hit my stomach. I checked he was ok and relieved to see he was still up, we continued down, flying through the bends. Nothing phased us and we had a clear gap ahead. I was even beginning to gain a gap on my companion as we neared the bottom. One final right hand bend... I didn't know the descent at all. That final thought popped into my mind as my tyre skidded on the smooth road surface and I went flying into the verge at 40 mile an hour. I put the brakes on and shaved off a little speed as I flew along the verge. I almost, just almost saved it as I bounced back towards the road. But at the last moment, I hit a massive rock and went sprawling over the bars. Head first into the rocks, onto my shoulder then lastly skidding to a stop on my hip. Miraculously nothing hurt. I sat there in the verge waiting for the pain to hit. My left leg was shaking like a leaf and I could see blood trickling down from a deep hole in my knee but still nothing hurt. I could tell I had scraped all down my arm, but that didn't hurt either. Could I move everything? I wiggled my legs, then moved my arms around but still no pain and everything moved perfectly. I sat and took deep breaths. Had I been so lucky that I had come away with no broken bones? My heart sank. Was the bike ok? I must have completely totalled it. There was no way it was in working order after that. I couldn't bear to look at it. The rest of the group slowed to a stop around me. They were all wonderfully calm and made sure I was ok. I asked about my bike. The bike didn't have a scratch on it. I was relieved. They helped me to stand up as I was finally met with the rush of pain, which at first flooded my shoulder. Panic filled me and I felt suddenly sick. Had I broken my shoulder after all? There were severe shooting pains down my upper arm which hurt much worse than when I had broken my wrist two years ago. I shuffled back to my bike and tried to straighten out my knee as I clung to my shoulder desperately. The knee straightened out but was still shaking badly. I managed to half stumble and half throw myself onto the bike. It was a great struggle. I headed down the descent, unable to put any weight through my shoulder. Every bump in the road shook it so uncomfortably, it felt like my shoulder had detached itself from my arm. As we continued, the swelling was rapidly beginning to appear on my lower left arm and it looked like it was sticking out at a rather awkward angle. Something wasn't right with it. We bumbled along down the road, but I was growing increasingly worried and so too were my cycling companions. Instead of riding another 40 miles home, we rode a little further out and I took a train instead from the nearest station. It was the most unpleasant 6 miles I've ever cycled and I knew that I would have to go to the hospital to get it checked. I arrived back in Stirling and limped out of the station. I bumped into someone who had first aid knowledge and refused to let me cycle and take myself to hospital. He asked if I had hit my head, and said it was the sort of decision you make when you have concussion. He phoned an ambulance for me, a new, and unpleasant experience.
After waiting four hours at the hospital, I was told that it was neither dislocated nor broken. They sent me away claiming it was just a sprained shoulder and that it would heal in a week or two. The first couple of days I could hardly move, I spent much of my time just lying on my right side. My left side was completely black, my arm unmovable and my whole body ached as if I'd been ran over by a steam roller. A few days later though and I was getting increasingly frustrated. I was unable to use my left arm at all for anything and while everything else was slowly beginning to heal, albeit still black and blue, I knew something was just not right with my left shoulder and arm. I went back to the hospital five days later. They gave me a sling and said it could be a rotator cuff injury. This would mean it would be quite serious after all and would most likely take an operation and several months to fix meaning an end to my road season. I was worried. I was called back just a few short days later and was told it was just a strained muscle, at 19 years old it is very unlikely that you would damage the rotator cuff because the muscles around it are so supple. "Unlikely" didn't seem like a definite diagnosis of this injury and I pleaded with the doctor and told him that I was a serious cyclist and was desperate to get back racing, but he insisted there was nothing they could do and that I just needed to be patient. While I wasn't exactly pleased, it was a relief to be able to try and believe that it was just a small muscle injury and not a tear or anything else serious. I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on recovering. However, I was getting increasingly fed up of being stuck in and not being able to ride my bike, even walking made the pain uncomfortable. There was nothing I could do to relieve the stress. So I spontaneously decided to head back home to the north where my family were. I knew that to heal from this quickly and to keep positive through the recovery, the best thing was to go home and be with my family and get my head back on. It worked wonders. I had a wonderful time at home and they supported me through it. Thanks to Dale from Springfield Properties who stepped up and ever so kindly helped me get my bike home for me which I couldn't manage myself with my injury and this allowed me to get back riding within another 2 weeks, although very slowly. It was still uncomfortable but I was less concerned now I could actually move it.
The Scottish road race champs were the weekend before I had to go back to Stirling for the second year of my course. I didn't think I'd make it just days earlier but after physio with Rachel at Elgin Physiotherapy Ltd. my shoulder did feel brilliant. I decided to race with very little hope of finishing let alone a podium. I woke up the morning of the race, to add to my lack of fitness, with a sore throat. I had managed to let a cold into my system right before the race. I was even more gutted. But I was also interested to see how the race would unfold. I didn't know quite how hilly it was going to be and I thought maybe, just maybe I would manage to hang on. I started the 50 mile road race, with one of my Torelli Brother team mates also in the bunch. Neither of us had had much time to warm up. The race started off and my team mate got on the front and strung the race out rapidly. I tried to come through to help but was really suffering so I stuck to the other rider's wheels. Right before the climb, I moved up to the front to try and set the pace for the foot of the climb but soon the pace increased and the race strung out. I quickly dropped from the group and was soon on my own. I was disappointed but I fought hard to get back to them. There was a rider in front of me I could just see, but then she disappeared out of sight and I never saw her again. I finished the first 17 mile lap with my shoulder beginning to ache and then I decided it was doing me no good and I pulled out. I rushed to get changed then headed down to finish line to yell for my team mate. We waited anxiously. The last news we had was that she was in the front group of five. I was quietly confident. Having seen Jen George win the Tour of Omagh in Ireland just the week before, I knew she was in incredible form. The group appeared in the distance at a remarkable speed as they flew up to the line. I saw my team mate raise her arms and my own shout of delight was drowned out by the loud cheers around the finish. I ran and hugged her quickly at the finish absolutely thrilled for her. You can never truly understand how beautiful it is being there when a team mate wins. Being a part of their glorious moment is a unique feeling. I was filled with emotion. It was a truly remarkable end to what had been a super tough day out there for me. (Congrats Jen!)
I had one final week at home filled with lots of fun with my family and a few rides which I started beginning to gain some form from some of the big hilly rides round my home before returning to Stirling to start the second year of my travel and tourism course. I am now focusing on building for next season on the bike. I really hope to have a strong road season next year. I will still be getting stuck into a bit of track racing but my focus will definitely be on the road for next year. My injury still gives me some sharp pains to remind me it's not quite healed and I still can't hold a decent aero racing position for very long before it becomes unbearable but it is a lot better and I'm just so happy to be back on the bike! :)
Hopefully I will be back racing on the track in the coming months, so watch out for my next blog. Thank you for the continued support!
Georgia X
