Angels Watching Over Him

It seems that almost everyone has had a time in their life where, in hindsight, they sit back and say "Holy cow, was I lucky. I really dodged a bullet on that one." Dave had such a moment last Sunday. But I firmly believe it wasn't luck. It was angels watching over him.

Dave is training for the Seattle to Portland bike ride. The ride is over 200 miles. Most people do it in two days, but there are a some really crazy people who ride it in one day. Dave falls into the latter group. He has been training really hard to accomplish the goal of being a "one-day rider."

 In order to meet that goal, he needed to ride a century ride (100 miles) in June. That was why on Father's Day he was riding in the Loreen Miller Bike ride. The day actually was a good day for bike riding--no rain, cool temperatures, not a lot of wind. Dave was having a great ride. He had managed to fall in with a couple of other guys and they were each taking turns on the front. Because it was Father's Day, Carson and I decided to go as support crew. We met Dave at each food stop. We saw him at the food stop at mile 64. He was feeling great and was looking forward to finishing up the last few miles. Yes, that was how he described his last 36 miles, "just a few miles." I kissed him and said, "See you in 20 miles at the next food stop."

I got a call from Dave as I waiting for him at the next food stop. He said to me, "Can you come get me?" I answered, "Sure, what's up?" "Well, I had a little bit of a wreck," he replied. "OK, I'm on my way. Where are you?" He said, "I have no idea, just look for me on the side of the road."

That was the extent of our conversation. Where I'm prone to exaggeration and hyperbole, Dave is understated and minimalist. So I really had no idea what to expect to see when I finally found him along the roadside. As I was  driving to find him, I was trying to watch for road names or mile markers just in case I had to call 9-1-1. I was also having Carson look for a first aid kit in the truck in case I had to do any road-side first aid.

I came upon Dave and another cyclist who had been involved in the crash about 10-15 miles from where I was waiting for him. He was up and walking around--always a good sign. His lip was bleeding a little and he had a lot of road rash on his back and hip. His left elbow was bruised and swollen. He was coherent. He could tell me his name, where he was, what he was doing. His body was bruised, not broken.

But his bike. Oh, his bike. The frame was cracked in two places. The rear wheel was bent, as was the rear wheel fork. There was no more riding this bike. His helmet was not just broken, it was bent and mashed.

After the adreline rush subsided and he had some time to reflect, he realized how blessed he was to have come away from this bike wreck with such relatively minor injuries. This realization was reinforced several times yesterday as he showed his wrecked bike to 3 different bike shops and received the same response at each one "I can't believe your injuries are worse. You were really lucky."

Luck had nothing to do with it. He had angels watching over him on Sunday.