Last weekend I went on a bike ride with the bike club I belong to. Coming down this wonderful twisty downhill I hear yelling around the corner up ahead. I brake to slow down and, turning the corner, see one of our riders on the ground. He lies unconscious on his side, but his head is turned upward, turned a little further than seems natural. His legs are scraped and bruised, and a small stream of thick blood flows from somewhere behind his helmet. His little Brompton folding bike, which I discussed with this Brit just before the ride, rests on his legs. I move the bike to the side, but all we can do is wait for the medics, not wanting to move him for fear of a spinal injury.
Later in the week I get a call from the bike club president – the rider “didn’t make it.” Some people in the group are seeking counseling, and plan to get together to talk it out. I have a emotionally removed perspective on the situation – he wasn’t riding very safely for his level of experience, several others in the group weren’t riding safely, accidents happen, death is not a bad thing but a beautiful, natural part of life – and wonder if I’m ignoring the shock of this. Victor Frankl said we like to watch death in the media because it says it is others who die, not us, helping us ignore our own terrifying mortality. I like to feel smug and think I’ve accepted my own mortality and, more so, not shocked by other’s like the rider last weekend.
A posting below rambles on about the importance of wearing a helmet while bicycling, at least if you care about protecting your head. But this guy was wearing a helmet. I didn’t hear the official cause of death, but by the sound of his breathing it sounded like he had internal injuries with blood in his lungs. So I think of this from the perspective of acceptable risk. We all accept risk and must balance it with the rewards. This went through my mind this past weekend as I went out on a solo ride near where the rider fell and was suddenly spooked. I was not only more careful but a bit afraid too.