John Johnson: A Recovering Biker

I am not a particularly gifted athlete.  Growing up, I was known more as the “smart one” not the “athletic one”.   In fact, I have had somewhat checkered athletic experiences.  I earned a yellow belt in Judo in 3rd grade, but my martial arts career ended shortly thereafter when a very strong 4th grade girl beat me in one of the Judo competitions. I played Little League as a kid as well, but that ended with a fly ball and an unfortunate fainting spell in left field due to heat exhaustion.  I ran cross country in high school but had the distinction of coming in last in a race my freshman year, behind an athlete with a musculoskeletal disease. 

My athletic streak continued last year.  I had made the decision to start biking on a regular basis.  On my first bike ride of the season, 7 miles into a ride on a beautiful spring day, I slipped on an old train track and went down in a big heap.  I landed pretty squarely on my left arm. 

As I lay on the ground, my business partner Matt and about 8 strangers circled around me.  It was reassuring that strangers were quick to lend me a hand.  I surely needed it.  A quick trip to the ER and I found I had broken my arm.   Elbow actually.  That led to a summer laid up.  No biking, no swimming.  No driving for several weeks.  I had my arm in a sling.  My wife had to help me tie my tie, not to mention other things! John’s athletic curse continued.

Since then, I have rehabbed, started weight training and swimming.  I found two great trainers at the gym I joined downtown (shout out to Jibreel and Jessica).  I have been pretty religious about working out several mornings a week.  But, after a year, I was pretty slow to get back on the bike.  Recently though, mildly encouraged (pressured) to participate in an aqua bike event by my best obsessive compulsive tri-athlete friend (and fellow Friend of RP) Steve, it was time to get back on the bike.  And so, two weeks ago, it was time for the big race.

Steve and I trekked to Philadelphia.  After a long afternoon stuck in traffic, a restless night sleep in a hotel, and a 4:30am wake up due to nerves, it was event day.   I tried to ignore Steve’s pre race rituals….four water bottles with different nutritional additives, a cup of black coffee, a banana, nutrition bars, seemingly endless clothing, and enough other gear to outfit a small village.  I had a bottle of water, my helmet, and my shoes.  While Steve would be doing a triathlon, I would be aqua biking, which meant an 800 yard swim in the Schuylkill river, then a 14 mile bike ride.  At least 1000 people went in the triathlon waves first, and I was surprised to find I was one of only 10 in the aqua bike.  I also was quick to notice I was approximately 30 years younger than my fellow AQBs.

The river was somewhat gross, and I was surprised how many lifeguards in kayaks came up to me to see if I was ok. (I found out later someone had drowned in this event in a prior year).  About 100 yards in I abandoned my crawl stroke for breast, side, or even doggie paddle.  But, I made a decision early on – unless the pollution in the river killed me, surely I wasn’t going to stop otherwise.

I finished the swim and was off to the transition.  After fighting with my wetsuit and my shoes, and running through my mental checklist (helmet…check) I was out on the bike.  The course was somewhat hilly, but it was a beautiful day.  My elbow started to hurt about half way out from squeezing the handle bars so tightly.  I found myself being passed by a lot of bikers.  Perhaps it was fear of falling again, or perhaps it was just being slow, but I didn’t care.  It was one of those in the zone experiences real athletes have.  As I came towards the end, I thought to myself…this was just long enough to feel like a real accomplishment.  I proudly crossed the finish line with people shouting for me and I received a large gold participation medal for finishing.

Steve was excited to greet me with a big hug.  We quickly discussed the course:

 “Boy, that second bike loop was tough, wasn’t it?”

I quizzically looked at him.

“Second bike loop?  What second bike loop?”

I guess the curse of the recovering athlete is not quite broken yet.  My medal didn’t quite shine as brightly after my realization, but recovery takes many forms.  We will see how I do in my next race…Sunday!