To this outsider, I sense a fraternity that bonds fellow policemen, fellow fireman, fellow soldiers, and others in dangerous professions. The risks of the occupation are commonly understood within the fraternity. When the risk is realized and a member is affected, the fraternity rallies around their fallen comrade. The tragedies of the recent police shootings in this region were a poignant reminder of the sacrifices that law enforcement officers willfully provide to us outside the fraternity. The memorials of each fallen officer vividly captured the collective grief the fraternity bears when tragedy strikes. It grips them all as if it was a family member.
Bike racers are nowhere near that plane of heroism and so any analogy to the above is overstated and shallow. We choose to participate in a sport with risks. Unlike our protectors above, the risks we face on race day often arise from members within our own fraternity. The motivators of individual and team success play into the split-second choices when our bodies are pushed to the limit. In the end, our safety depends upon each other. And, when someone goes down it hurts us, regardless of how it happens or the colors we are wearing that day. An over-generalization? Perhaps. But yesterday gave me evidence of its truth.
The setting was an unusually sunny (thank you, El Nino) and well-attended edition of the weekly Rocket Ride--an informal gathering of racers of all levels looking to test their limits against the very best in the area. It is humbling experience for most: success on the day is judged by how far you can get into the hilly course before being dropped. It is ostensibly a group ride, but race speed and tactics are on display as you meet your destiny with humiliation.
About 1/3 of the way into the Rocket Ride is the summit of Hollywood Hill. It is usually a regroup point, a hint that the "warm-up" of Norway and Hollywood Hills is done and the fireworks are about to be lit. After the restart, the route heads down a very steep and windy road that if traveled in the other direction has been termed by local climbers as "The Guillotine". And with good reason--it's grade is roughly 18%.
On this day, the leaders of the Rocket Ride were in no mood to regroup, possibly trying to shed the masses into a more manageable, talent-matched selection. The Hollywood Hill summit was reached and the leaders forged on with a right hand turn to initiate their descent. I found myself in a chase group with two other teammates and maybe a dozen other riders, all trying to remain in contact with the lead group who had gapped us by ~150 yards. We were in a redline chase. And in that frenzied pursuit, in the middle of a fast swooping descent down "The Guillotine", our mate hit the pavement.
As I play it back in my mind, it's surreal. There's the unforgettable snap of the bike and rider on pavement, and the incongruous image of a person, now detached from bike, skidding off towards some unknown stopping point. I didn't see how this sequence initiated, but the sharp impact sound captured my attention from my own suffering to what was unfolding further down the road. I quickly recognized the colors of my teammate as the one sliding on the tarmac. His trajectory was straight, but the road curved to the left. Ultimately, a gravel filled ditch brought his skid to a painful, abrupt stop. My other teammate and I went to the ditch immediately to see what we could do. Our other teammates who came upon us later all stopped as well. 911 was summoned and we took care to keep our teammate comfortable as the pain of his injuries began to envelop him.
In the midst of all of this was something I did not expect, but was grateful to see. Racers from other teams stopped to help, putting aside their own aspirations on an unbelievably gorgeous day to ride. There was no motivation for them to do so, especially while captivated in the mindset of the Rocket Ride and with training objectives in full swing for road race season. I'm going with the glass half-full and will chalk it up to the great fraternity in which we belong.
I am happy to say that our fallen mate will be back. He is a dignified yet humble and approachable man, well grounded in who he is and his priorities in life. You don't even have to be around him very long to learn all that about him. For all of that he is very inspirational--a guy you definitely want to rally around. It especially hurt to see him in the ditch and broken. But it was outstanding that others in the fraternity that cared enough to help out. Kudos to "Frank" from Cucina Presta and "Jeff" and the others who stopped. You are very good people and I'm proud to be part of the fraternity with you.
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