The Beauty & Agony of the Tour (Part 2)
Tuesday, July 19th, 2011
So many miles from France and I still had a most spectacular day yesterday. I’m back home in Los Angeles to see the noted specialist, Dr. Ramin Modabber of the Santa Monica Orthopaedic and Sports Medicine Group. The good doctor is a huge cycling fan, the Chief Medical Officer for the Amgen Tour of California, and for me the perfect person to consult with after my Stage 9 high speed descent ends with me crashing into a guard rail and bouncing my way down a European hillside.
There is, of course, so much beauty to the Tour. I’ll never be jaded enough not to appreciate the pageantry of it all. It’s of course a rolling circus of sorts and the mood and delight that it brings to the French nation and the global cycling community is quite extraordinary. It’s a true privilege to be riding there, but for those of us that don’t make it to Paris there’s also a very real disappointment. I certainly wish I could take that infamous left hand turn over again because I desperately wanted to see Paris this year.
When I replay the events of that day in my mind the scenes are not entirely complete. I hit my head pretty hard or maybe my memory just sucks or maybe I just hit my head pretty hard. I remember being in the front of the peloton. The chase was on. Voices in my ear piece were instructing us to close the gap. We looked around for allies. We could reel some of gap back in on the descent. But the road was slick in spots. I remember seeing it wet then dry then wet again. Ryder was near me. Julian Dean was in front of the group. Thor was behind me. Vino was close by. Now Lotto and Garmin were working together. Two Lotto riders were directly in front of me: Willems and Van Den Broeck. I was on the wheel of Lotto’s, Frederik Willems, I believe. The pace increased. We dropped off the mountain with increasing speed. Surely the gap was coming down. My ear piece echoes with: The gap at 2 minutes. 2 minutes. 2 minutes.
Voeckler’s in the break but certainly we will bring him back now. Suddenly, the left-hander and the eerie sound of screeching brakes, bikes skidding in front of me. I see the Lotto rider in front of me unclip. My mind stops, times freezes. I’m living in slow motion. Around me the horrible grating sound of metal on metal, then exploding carbon. My hands instinctively tighten on the brakes. My breath and heart beat shut down. My eyes are unemotionally fixed on a concrete post directly in front of me. A metal guard rail runs from the post both left and right. I can’t turn. My bike is locked up. The sound of rubber sliding on the pavement washes over me. My front wheel disintegrates into the concrete post. My fork is sawed in half. My hands snap backward as I flip over the top of my handlebars. My head smacks the top of the concrete post as I summersault the guard rail and bounced 20 feet down the embankment. I’m suddenly laying motionless in wooded brush. My hands are numb. My left leg is screaming in pain. I’m afraid to move but I’m alone. I wonder who will see me down here. Does anyone even know what happened? Suddenly a voice blasts over my ear piece: Crash! Crash! Crash!
I took several breaths and slowly willed my body toward the embankment. I was crawling, dragging my left leg. Half way up I hear someone above me. I crane my neck toward the road to see a helmeted motorcycle rider anxiously making his way downward. He lifts me under my arms and helps me back up to the road. Cars, riders and busted bikes are scattered all over. I’m dazed but I think about remounting my back-up bike. I try to stand but I can’t. I simply can’t. To my side is Lotto’s Willem. He looks at me searchingly and asks, “What happened?” I hesitate. It’s too hard to talk. The realization of being out of the race settles over me and I start shivering. Willem again asks, “What happened?” I just shake my head from side to side pausing only briefly to reach up to pull the radio piece from my ear as it crackles: The gap at 7 minutes. 7 minutes. 7 minutes.
An ambulance finally arrives and they load Vino. He’s broken. I watch in dazed detachment. Later he would explain his split second choice as riding off the road or riding up the back of Thor and wiping them both out. I’ll say what you already know, Vino’s a warrior. After what seemed like 45 minutes I’m loaded into a car that takes me back up the mountain we descended down and I’m dropped at a ski patrol station. I’m laid out on a stretcher, cold and pissed. Around me there’s others injured and a lot of commotion about how to get us to the hospital. Finally I get someone’s attention and order a whiskey. Instead of the drink I get a lot of confused looks. I’m nearly ready to pass out from the pain in my leg. Whiskey damn it! Cooperation is not forthcoming. I’m shivering uncontrollably now and growing more angry by the second. Someone hands me a thick under garment from my rain bag that the team left with me. I take it and put it on to warm myself but its the whiskey I really want. I root through the rain pack and pull out my full face baklava and also put it on. I draw a few angry breaths through the small holes covering my mouth and LOUDLY ask again for a whiskey in a way that now sounds more like a demand. Those around me shutter from my volume and my new look but still respond ‘No’ while mumbling to each other that I hit my head. I suspect they are rationalizing my behavior by telling each other its a head injury. Someone excitedly pops in front of me with a glass of water and the French equivalent to Tylenol and fearfully extends it toward me. I slowly lean forward, my eyes moist, my ski-masked head slightly tilted and gently whisper to him, ‘Whiskey? S’il vous plait.’
I’m finally transferred to a local hospital. I sensed they wanted me out. The attending physician reeks of cigarette smoke. How’s that possible? He’s been told I hit my head and he’s certainly been informed about my demands for whiskey. He begins to good-naturedly lecture me on the problems of alcohol. I know I’m not a drinker but he’s not going to be convinced of that so I suggest to him that we make a deal. I stop drinking if he stops smoking. He chuckles, uncommitted. I ask the doctor to think of me every time he lights up. He smiles and continues his examination.
I’m required to spend the night. Head injury. I’m not convinced of that but I have no chance to convince them that this is really just the way I am. My leg’s in a brace and on my lap is my trusty iPad. My body has shut down but I couldn’t relax. I’m restless, irritable and alone. Of course I feel lucky as well. News of broken bones and more serious injuries filter into my room. Emails come from my teammates and friends. I console myself by reading their words, sometimes more than once. Thor, Tommy D and Julian Dean are especially kind and supportive. I’m out of the Tour but I’m okay. It could have been much worse and they remind me of this fact. And while I’m worried about my hand and knee I’m also grateful that fate cleared a more gentle path for me than maybe some of the others. To see what happened to Flecha and Hoogerland later on that same stage was both sobering and horrifying.
Strangely, the days events made it so I was unable to sleep. Looking to calm myself and find a diversion I pull up the HBO crime drama OZ on my iPad and lay in bed watching the entire 3rd season. I finally pass out between 2 and 3am hopeful for an early morning pick-up by the team. At 8am I’m ready to go but my ride doesn’t show up till a few hours later. I’m transferred to the Rest Day hotel in Saint Flour, I believe. It was good to see the guys again but it would also be bittersweet as this would be my last night with them. I gently settled into my room with Ryder, my knee badly swollen, and began making plans to get back to the US. I would need to see a specialist back home.
Yesterday, Dr. Modabber kindly cleared time to see me. He x-rayed my hand and wrist and confirmed that I did not fracture any bones. He convinced his MRI tech to skip lunch to scan my knee. The pre-scan evaluation and diagnosis was not good. The possibility of a meniscal tear was high. We spoke about the required surgery and maybe removing the 3 screws that have been in my knee since my 2003 accident. But to our delight the scan showed no tear just a ‘femoral contusion’ from the impact. ‘If you can deal with the pain you can spin’ was what I was told. No climbing. No strenuous efforts. I left the doctor’s office elated and headed immediately over to one of my favorite vegan restaurants, Native Foods. To my surprise on the restaurant wall hung the framed Wall Street Journal article about the first cyclist to attempt the Tour de France on a vegan diet. In the background Lynyrd Skynrd’s ‘Freebird’ played. I couldn’t help but smile, life was offering me another special moment.
When I got back home I slipped into my gear and slow-pedaled around the lake near my house. My knee hurt, my right hand still had pain and numbness, but I was pedaling. I’m not in France with my teammates but I was pedaling. And after a brilliant and crazy 9 stages of the Tour, I was pedaling again. When I returned to the house my 3 year old boy, Waylon, was on the driveway. I lifted him onto my bike and we pedaled off together, in my head the lyrics of ‘Freebird’ playing softly.
On top of being one hell of a professional athlete who wants to win races (left right up down), you are an excellent writer with a distinct and entertaining voice. Maybe you should write a column like Jens once he retires. In 2023.
^^^^ Excellent writer. All well said and I felt as if I was there with you. When you were asking for whiskey, that was intense!
I have to agree with Chris. Liked reading your blog. Bummer about the crash. I love to see you go for it! And I’m glad you’re already back on the bike, Freebird and all. Take care. Can’t wait until you’re back racing again. You make it fun to watch.
A Fan
Thanks for sharing, and great to hear you are back on the bike.
Give em hell in Colorado.
You had me at Freebird
Poetry on and off the bike. Thanks so much for these eloquent and enriching posts. Oh, and OZ rules.
I agree with Chris’ comments. You are one hell of a writer! For a while there I lost myself in the story. It was like i was watching it all over again. At least you are back on your bike again. I know that we’ll all be anxious to see you back in competition soon. Here’s to a speedy full recovery!
Dave great writing. I too got lucky with no meniscus tears in my recent accident. And i too have a contusion and its on my lateral femural condyle which occured from my bones colliding after an ACL and MCL tear. I have been off the bike for 3 months now and just today had a knee scope and manipulation procedure done. The doc removed a lemon size amount of scar tissue frim my knee and i’m hoping that does the trick to get me back on the bike even if it is only on a trainer. The way you and your cycling compatriots bounce back from injury is inspiring. I hope to see you riding strong here in Colorado in the USA Pro Cycling Challenge. Rest well and heal up!
Dave Z – I tweeted you should crash more often as you then tweet more. Now I think you should just write more – this is pure, heart-felt eloquence and makes heroes like you “real”.
Dave, thank you for sharing your amazing TDF experience; you are a true story teller. I wish you a very speedy recovery; how great it would be to see you racing in Colorado next month. As a transplanted Texan living in Boulder I am now a road biker chick and a very big fan of cycling and Garmin-Cervelo (often riding by your HQ). I am so impressed by the synergy with which your team flows and am so proud of you all. The City of Lights greatly anticipates your 2012 arrival and so do I. Félicitations et bon courage!
Wow I was thinking the same thing Chris just said. Your writing is excellent and entertaining to read. Glad you’re back on your bike!
Dave,
Thanks so much for the update. Happy to know your prognosis is positive. We all want to see you racing soon!!
“To see what happened to Flecha and Hoogerland later on that same stage was both sobering and horrifying.”
Seeing that incident made me think you need to extend “Yield to Life” to France… (BTW, any news there? The site appears not to have been updated for a year or more)
It was very sad to see you have to leave the tour. So well written and very moving.
Heal fast DZ- glad you are on the mend and pedaling.
Thank you for sharing. Eloquently written, and I too am now humming Freebird.
Glad to hear you’re doing well.
It’s amazing how time stretches out right before impact in a crash- and then you come to somewhere else.
Gimme a call if you’re up in San Francisco – I’ll show you around. The whisky is on me.
That was both beautiful and incredibly informative. Happy you’re back on the bike- recover well!!
Holy smokes – what a day. Thanks for sharing this crazy experience. Glad to know you’re ok and back on the bike, and hope you heal fast. Sure do miss seeing you in the Tour this last week.
I very much enjoyed reading your thoughts, so beautifully written. I watched that frightening crash live, and my heart sank for all those men whose dreams of Paris were so suddenly stricken. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Also, I am a cyclist and recent turned vegan due to a variety of food allergies. My cycling has suffered due to the lack of fuel. I am anxious to read the Wall Street article you mention.
Keep on riding and writing!
You are an amazing writer! I felt chills/fear/panic as I read your description of the crash. It was as if I was there experiencing the crash myself. It was frightening. You must write a book on your experience as a professional cyclist. I think it would be fascinating.
DZ take it easy on that knee. I’m Ryder’s foot PT and I don’t want you to lose the cartilage on your femur. It’s likely hurt along with the femoral contusion.
Wow, thanks for sharing your story with your fans. It certainly is interesting to hear it from your point of view. Glad to read that you’re feeling a bit better & don’t need surgery. I hope you eventually got your wiskey. Also, you have excellent taste in TV shows.
DZ, your compelling writing made me feel we were with you on the side of the road, at the base of the mtn and even now in LA. Sometimes bone bruises are worse than breaks so take it easy….keep writing and riding….xx
Dave, that’s a hugely well-written piece that shows racing in a way TV coverage never can. Hope recovery goes well and looking forward to seeing you back at the Tour next year.
DZ, thanks mate, lovely words. Next to JD you are my fave!
You made me cry. I think you can publish a book of rider accidents–the human side. Contact and cleft these stories. You have a distinct entertaining style. Book now, Yellow next year.
We watch, groan, cheer and our hearts stop when anything happens. But when riders safety goes I am so saddened for each rider.
You are a great rider and the public tweets show you are the spark in the peloton-not just your team.
Dave-
glad you didn’t have any broken bones from your impact. I appreciate your perspective and insight, especially with regard to how quickly things can change at the TDF and how little control you have over the outcome.
I hope you heal well and can rejoin your Garmin teammates for the Tour of Spain. Good luck!
Your my HERO!
Rock on, DZ.
Thanks for the update Dave. Glad nothing is seriously damaged and you are “rollin” again. Hang in there man!
You’ll be back
If I set aside the fact that this was you recounting your dreadful experience, I felt as if I was reading a suspense novel. The writing definitely has verve. Also thinking about the intersection of your peripatetic and vegan lifestyles you should consider a blog or guide to global vegan eating similar to Dar Williams’ Tofu Tollbooth.
Wow. Thanks for sharing, nice job!
Dave – Great writing! Especially the fourth paragraph. I felt like I was there on the bike with you. Don’t quit your day job, but you should think about getting into writing. Heal quick and get back on that bike! It’s great to have another Vegan Sports Hero!
By the way, my husband is an avid biker, I am an avid Vegan. I got caught up in the excitement of the Tour with him, because of you. Now I’m starting to bike, and he is starting to try the Vegan lifestyle.
Thanks for this beatifully written update. From your first word I was pulled into the world of the TdF and the tragedies that can occur. I’m sharing this with my Tennis Channel co-workers with whom I was debating on who was more macho, Rafael Nadal or a TdF biker. They are now convinced that bikers definitely are!
You’re in good hands over at SMOG! I was treated by this medical group when I tore my ACL and split my knee-cap in half from training for a marathon back in 2004. Today I’m back running and biking with metal bolts and wire holding my knee together.
Here’s to a speedy recovery!
Thanks for sharing such a promising update! Your eloquent description of the accident made it feel like I was there with you. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that crash and you crawling up the hill. Thrilled that your injuries are not as severe as you feared and that you’re riding already!
Though it is terribly unfair that you won’t be able to celebrate making it to Paris this year, I know you must be extremely proud of the team’s success and your contributions to it this year. Amazing work! For a few days it seemed like we saw you constantly on the TV coverage as you rode the front so often.
Blessings on you and your family as you recover at home. Hope to hear more from you about your Tour experience and especially that stellar TTT. All my best!
Hope you’re back to 100% fitness, okay 98% fitness in no time, there’s always some niggle or other. So sorry to see your tour ending as it did, it’s proving to be a brutal race this year. I can’t remember another where so many riders, and GC contenders at that, were broken faster than they could empty the ambulances.
Your description of the accident is written so well (as is everything, as everyone has pointed out many times already – you are good though). As someone who races motorised-bicycles (I’m lazy ok) the experience you recount is a familiar one for me, although not a regular one thank goodness. Reading your account, and having seen the aftermath on the TV at the time, I have just relived it, minus all the pain and damp cycling shorts. The French know how to build a road huh? All I can ay is, I never realised how protective 1mm covering of lycra could be. I am of course joking, you guys are simply as hard as nails. And deserve to be incredibly rich. Have you seen what soccer players do? (or don’t).
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve ended up behind the sofa watching this year’s tour through my fingers. Pain isn’t fun, and it’s not as if you cyclers don’t put yourselves through the mill as it is. You’re all crazy! …and superhuman.
Isn’t it amazing how so much stuff goes through your mind during 3 or 4 seconds, and then you’re able to recall it millisecond by millisecond, mind you I guess it becomes lasered into your memory – the one’s you can remember, luckily I must have a glass jaw coz I tend to wake up in hospital with a huge repair bill and an ex-girlfriend, hehe.
Humans are odd (I know I am). Have a Whiskey for me and I’ll look forward to watching you racing over here in Europe soon. GWS Dave, the sport needs you!.
Damn fine writing Sir! So glad to hear your injuries were not as serious as first thought.
You should have given the French doctor your twitter name check that you’re always like that
I still fondly remember your one word interviews from the peloton from a couple of years back and will always associate your brand of humor as being unique.
Get well soon, so we can again cheer you on your next race.
DZ your perspective, humor and condor helps the recreational cyclist understand how crazy you have to be in order to risk life & limb as a pro rider. Still, I’d trade careers with you in a heartbeat.
I’ve been a big fan since you spoke at the FLOYD DIDN’T CHEAT TOUR sponsored by Robbi Ventura & his Vision Quest Coaching team in Chicago. We met briefly afterwards.
You were really leading the charge for Thor & Garmin-Cervelo at the front at the TdF. Your form looked better than ever so, it sucked to see you crash out. Glad you’re back on the bike. Will you be in CO for the race?
peace & respect,
Scott
Terrific account, DZ. Training for something like the Tour with all the time, work, and hope invested and then to have it all disappear in an instant for no discernible reason – I can’t imagine the disappointment. Don’t push it but…mend fast! Your last paragraph puts it all in perspective.
Wish you all the best and a speedy recovery Dave! See you in Colorado where we’ll be the screaming fans on top of the mountains and in the streets of Denver!
oh man! what a picture you paint with words. I didn’t read the piece…..I saw it. thanks for sharing yourself. I’m a lucky reader…and fan….more, more,more!
DZ – thanks for writing and sharing.
Every time I read your entries I hope that you’ll put together a book. Please put together a book.
All of us “laymen” can watch things on TV or the Net, but nothing compares to the written word for conveying this show – please put together a book.
I would like to congratulate cardboad-DZ and the rest of the Garmin-TdF-squad with the team victory!
Saw you up on the podium with the rest of Team Garmin-Cervelo in Paris! However, I’m a little worried: you looked a bit thin.
WHISKEY!!
So, when can we buy the life-sized Dave Z cardboard cut out like the one on the podium Sunday on your online store? Get better. Glucosamine.
Dave – keep on ridin’, keep on writin’. You are great at both.
dude, lesson-always carry a small bottle of whiskey in your rain bag at the tour!
The DZ abides. Heal up soon man!
I know you suffered throughout most of this, but the recap was highly entertaining. You’re a great writer. It doesn’t surprise me that you’re such an elite TT’er. It seems to be the most technical and complicated of all the cycling events – and clearly it takes someone very smart and thoughtful to succeed (not to mention someone willing to suffer…).