I May Have A Problem 

Ever since I was a kid, I was into competition. Didn't matter what it was, if it involved at least two people, I wanted (desperately needed) to win. Even if nobody else was racing. Sledding as a kid was downright dangerous.  Hiking?  I was the first to the top.  Riding our bmx's around the yard?  Fuck that, let's set up a race course.  Baseball, track, basketball (although I sucked at basketball), football, basically any sport I could get my hands on in school,  I wanted to rule whether I actually did or not. 

After college (where I competed in academics (I know, totally lame)), mountain bike racing filled that void.  MUST COMPETE!!!!!!  Now that I've been out of action for two months, I'm getting restless to compete in something.  Anything.  On Saturday, while watching B's soccer game, I decided that once I'm better I'll play soccer even though I was brought up to think of soccer as a sissy's sport (no worries, I have since repented even though I do still think it's stupid).  Then, on Sunday, the whole fam went swimming.  I suck at swimming but apparently it will be the only aerobic activity I'll be able to do for a while that doesn't hurt the hip.  I swam about a quarter of a mile.  Pathetically slow and trying to not make eye contact with the life guards for fear of having to drown myself out of shame and humiliation.  I was thoroughly humbled but felt good to have gotten an actual workout in.  As we left the community center I see this:

Hmmm, swim team.  Competition.  Juices flowing.  That is, until I saw the schedule.  Monday and Wednesday 3:15-4:15?  In the afternoon?

Do only retired folks and independently wealthy people swim?  Shit, time to take up competitive needlework.

Can't Get Much Lower 

The other day I made my first trip to the grocery store since hurting myself.  Pushing a cart around was out of the question so I very meekly grabbed one of the lil electric carts because nothing says man like cruising around the produce section at 1.3 mph.  I tried not to notice everybody looking at me out of the corner of their eyes as I dropped (and ran over) pears, romano cheese and tortellinis.  Eventually, I got the whole steering while shopping thing down and pulled my shit together.  That is until I entered the dairy section and on two occasions overshot my destination and had to awkwardly climb out of my cart (even I can't handle the humiliation of the back-up beeper on the cart) to fetch eggs and milk.  As I was grabbing the milk I heard mumbling from behind me (did I mention that I had gone swimming earlier in the afternoon and had water in the ear so I was essentially deaf as well???) and turned around to find a 80+ year old woman with an obvious limp offering to help me with my grocery shopping.  At the moment, I didn't think I could get much lower.  That is, until I got to the register where the M.R. (is that the PC way of saying it?) guy who has worked at the store forever took obvious pity on me and offered to take my cart out and load it into the car for me. 

Please hip.  Heal faster.

Bradbury 12 2012 

This weekend was the annual Bradbury 12, typically my last race of the season.  Of course, this year my season ended a bit early but that didn't stop me from showing up.  It was a totally different experience witnessing the race from the sidelines instead of atop a saddle sore infested ass.  In a way it was way more enjoyable.  Sitting around a campfire was fun.  Popping my first beer at 12:15 was fun.  Seeing other folks wanting to die (Hi Will!) was fun.  Did I want to throw a leg over a bike?  Sure but it was cool being back in the scene and seeing folks I haven't seen in a couple of months.  To be honest though, when the day was done I was hankering to do a solo single speed again next year.  It was just too painful seeing Will take all of the abuse by himself. 

Marcy's team, "Rick's Bionic Hipsters" represented well with no serious injuries despite the very slick conditions and the trick bridges (one that dropped as you rolled over it!).

Marcy rolling in after lap 1.

Marcy after her first lap.

Brian in his hipster costume.  In his words "argh, soooo muchhhhh cotton!"

my guess is that someone needed some fresh balls.

Hattie Freye (the much better half of the Freye family) in her aerobercize outfit

will showing us how sexy chest hair and irony is done.

he swore off plastic (ie carbon) bikes last season yet showed

up to bradbury with a set of crazy Enve carbon wheels.  

well played.

and finally, Marcy sporting her new Singletrack Sisters Jersey.  

She now has friends to play with!

While Daddy Is Away

As you can probably imagine, and maybe even felt, there is a void in the cycling universe because of my very powerful absence.  Individual symptoms may vary, but the most common Rick-less side effects tend to be large, angry saddle sores, pulsating road rash, unexplained crashes and the overwhelming need to bitch and moan about everything.  Has Rick-less effected you?

Marcy has been touched

Sadly, the only sure fire cure is for me to get on a bike again.  We can only hope that the universe hears your universal cries for help and takes pity on you by resurrecting me from the ashes.

In the meantime, us selfless Nelson's decided if I can't ride then maybe some other Nelson's (suffering the effects of Rick-less themselves) hitting the trails could at least limit the Rick-less symptoms.  Methadone for riding if you will. 

This past weekend we took the proverbial bullet for you all by camping at Bradbury State Park, a perfect venue for kid riding and adult buffoonery.  B took up the call and rode her Kona Makena around in circles, including bits of singletrack, for HOURS acquiring some of her own pulsating road rash in the process.  

Marcy heard the call for the greater good as well and headed out for a ride with her Bradbury 12 teammates.  She is a martyr.  Things started out well enough with ribbons of perfectly dry singletrack and incessant talk of giardia and relentless shitting (hmmm, are we sure I wasn't on this ride???) but, before long, Marcy's Rick-less kicked in and she decided to ask our buddies Kev and Brian to show her how to rip through on of the trail sections ahead.    Here are the results.

Progress 

Shit aint exactly rosey for me right now so I take any positive sign I get and run with it.  This past weekend, that sign was being able to climb onto our tractor to help move firewood.  Sure, I sat there and watched while Marcy and a couple of our friends did all the real work but it was better than sitting my ass on the couch.  An action packed weekend for sure.

two thumbs and crutches up.

Marcy joined in the excitement and 

then immediately regretted that decision.

I may not be able to ride a bike but I can

drive a tractor like a mother f-er.

she may never recover

I went to the ortho yesterday for my (almost) 7 week check-up.  The good news?  Nothing looks worse.  The bad news?  Nothing looks better either.  Frick.  I knew going in that the x-ray wasn't likely to show any improvement but I hoped that since the pain has mostly subsided (no pain meds for about 2 weeks now) there would be some noticeable healing going on.  Meh.  The only actual good news is that I can start some minor weight bearing now which means that when I try the trainer tomorrow (or this morning actually since I wrote this last night), I might be able to use some resistance after I get comfortable spinning.  First step though is managing to swing my leg over the top tube of my bike which might be tough since I've just gotten to the point that I can lift my leg into the freakin tub. 

Morning edit: The trainer was an epic fail.  I managed to swing a leg over the bike with some help from Marcy but bringing my bad leg from the 9 o'clock to the 12 o'clock position was definitely not happening.  I think it might be time to try the recumbent at the Y.  Double Meh.

It Ain't So Bad

Despite the fact that I HAVE TO HAVE the above pictured t-shirt, I'm thinking that life ain't so bad right now.  Sure, I can't ride my bike, the one thing that has kept me sane through the years, but things ain't all bad.  Getting hurt gives you the opportunity to see how people feel about you.  I'm not the most extroverted dude around (although it doesn't always seem that way) so I was shocked at the outpouring of support I received when I fucked my shit up.  To all you folks who reached out and offered a helping hand, I thank you.  And to those of you who didn't, I still love you but just to be safe, I'd make sure you don't leave your chamois unguarded because I have cans of itching powder and cayenne pepper just waiting for a good home.

I can't let things be all peachy so I do have one bummer to discuss.  Just before the injury, I discovered the magic/all consuming time waste that is Strava.  Just long enough to pick up a few KOM's and set my sights on many more (most gained by accident).  Sadly, as the weeks of inactivity pass, so do a bunch of my KOM's.  Funny enough, most of the KOM's I've lost are those that I picked up while on my Vermont adventure that got me in this mess in the first place.  Thankfully, though, the couple from Vermont that I still have are over some pretty big names like Eddie Odea and ahhh I just realized I've lost the KOM I had over Pete Webber.  Dang it.  Interestingly, all of the KOM's didn't come on SS USA race day but on my "pre-ride" the day before with Tyler.  The dude is a hammer and I wouldn't have any of those titles if he were on Strava.   

Thankfully though, Marcy has taken up Strava and is picking up a few QOM's of her own down in Bradbury land.  Represent the Nelson name well babe.  It needs it.

Speaking of the Nelson name, Marcy has joined a team for this year's Bradbury 12.  Their team name?  Rick's Bionic Hipsters.  I'm flattered.  I think.

Inappropriate?

It's been a week since my last post.  You'd think that there would be something of note to post about.  Sadly, there isn't.  I'm still in a holding pattern as far as the hip goes.  Will it heal properly or will I end up with a fake hip?  Who freakin knows.  The doctor's sure don't.    Easily the toughest part of this whole endeavor is the not knowing when/if I'll be going again.  I could handle this BS much better if there were a definite light at the end of the tunnel.  Sadly, there isn't.  Yet.

Meanwhile, I'm doing what I can to not go crazy.  As I mentioned before, the doc has given me the green light to go to the gym BUT he won't let me drive so actually GETTING to the gym has been a smidge tough.  I consider myself an endurance athlete but crutching 10 miles each way just doesn't seem physically possible.  Wimp.

I have been able to do more workouts at home though and can finally get on the floor so some simple crunches (and hopefully soon, push-ups) are now a possibility.  As I've resumed working out, one thing has become shocking clear.  I have lost vast amounts of strength already.  I can only imagine what riding is going to feel like when the time comes.

Speaking of, the trainer will be set up in the living room this week.  I'm not sure when I'll physically be able to pick my leg up enough to use it, but when that day comes I'll be one happy camper.  I have NEVER been so excited to ride the trainer, an endeavor usually reserved for enemies of the state.  But armed with the full Sufferfest series I should be able to pass some time while minimizing my loses as much as possible.

What else do I do to pass the time these days?  How about looking for new places to mount the GoPro?  After surgery, hoisting myself onto and off of the throne was impossible so Marcy was kind enough to get me a set of old foggie bars.  perfectly sized for the GoPro and with so many mounting options!  I bet you can't wait for this video. 

Extreme! 

Phase one of Project Extreme Crutching is complete.  Next up?  Hucking some serious gnar.

Green Light

Went to see the surgeon yesterday.  No earth shattering good news but at least there wasn't any bad news either.  It's still too early to see if my hip is healing correctly (that could take another 3-4 weeks!) but since the pain is subsiding and my mobility is improving, the doc gave me the green light to start hitting the gym, pool and the trainer.  Basically anything that doesn't cause hip pain is fair game.  Good news for sure since I'm going bat shit crazy not being able to do anything physical except for crutching around everywhere which is surprisingly difficult, especially off road.

Come to think of it, my home trails are mighty lonely, maybe it's time to start a new sport, off road crutching.  EXTREME! and only about as dumb as off road unicycles...

Happier Days 

 A few days before I headed for Vermont on my fateful trip, Marcy and I found ourselves with the VERY RARE opportunity of being kid and work free at the same time giving us the opportunity to ride together. Something that only happens a few times of year. It was a beautiful day for me to show Marcy around some of the Bathers trails. It's a crying shame that they are only 20 minutes from our house yet she never rides there. Hopefully, this was the first of many.

Based on this pic, muscle mass isn't the only weight that I'm losing right now...

3 Down

It's now been 3 full weeks since I broke my hip and I'm fully engaged in the waiting game at this point.  Will the hip heal?  Will the bone die?  Will I go crazy as I watch one beautiful day after another pass by with me doing diddly squat? 

The good news is that the pain is very manageable at this point with just Tylenol so no more narcotics for me.  They didn't exactly make me feel good while I was taking them but I was terrified of getting hooked so I got off of those as soon as I could.  The bonus good news with that is I can now, officially, enjoy a frosty cold beverage again if the opportunity arises. And it arose this weekend.  3 times.

The other good news is that I think I'll be able to get into the gym soon.  I'm sure I won't be doing any hip related exercises (weight bearing at least) any time soon but if I'd like to stem the loss of my muscle mass.  At this point, three weeks in, I've already lost 9 lbs (which can partially be blamed on lack of beer consumption as well).  You'd think that I'd be happy to be losing weight but 9 lbs already is a bit much.  Look out gym rats, here I come!

Another Recycle

  Another Recycle

 yet another post from the days of yore.

my deepest apologies

I have been riddled with guilt since I published the "Mungo Baby" series of posts. Was I being too cruel? Can Brynna somehow sense that I'm poking fun at her? Does my butt look big in these jeans? It has gotten to the point that I can't go home and look at that cute little face and not feel the need to pluck my eyelashes as penance. I also fear that with the age that children become computer savvy these days that she may in fact have the opportunity to read these posts. According to my calculations Brynna will be online by the time that she's three months old. "that's absurd!" you say? Well if you consider how things are progressing with computers these days it doesn't seem so crazy. Examples: My grandmother learned to use the computer in her 70's (and when I say learned I mean that she was able to consistently lose all of her work because she didn't understand the concept of saving). My mom began using computers at work in her 30's. I started using computers in my late teens. (notice everybody is progressively getting younger?) I have nieces and nephews that were surfing by five. So it seems to me that it doesn't take any huge leap of faith to believe that the current crop of juves will be computer savy before they are done pooping in their pants. Just to be on the safe side, I've decided to write Brynna an apology letter. Here goes.


Dearest Brynn,

Daddio here. How are things? Chance and Grace are doing well. Joe gave me a wet willie so I gave him a wedgie. I'm writing this letter to let you know that I am very sorry for the way that I spoke of your bulbous melon. Its really not so much bulbous as it is gigantic. (hmmm, this doesn't sound like a very good apology. let me try a different tact) Your noggin may be huge but have you looked at daddy's head recently? When a hat says "One size fits all" in parenthesis below it says "(except for Rick's big fat grape)". Umbrellas fit my head better than most hats. What I'm trying to say is that having a big head isn't all that bad. Sure, when you're walking down the street perfect strangers will yell out "Hey, whats up kickball head?!" or "can you move over, you're blocking the sun". But they mean nothing by it and I think that they are just trying to make conversation.

Mommy is a little worried that the size of your head could be an indicator of a medical problem but I told her that there is nothing to be worried about. All us Nelson's look like walking ping pong paddles and we're all just fine. For example, when Darren was born his head was so huge that initially the doctor's told my mom that he was most likely mentally retarded. My mom protested the diagnosis and simply had to march me and Uncle Rusty into the room to prove her point. When you get to know Uncle Darren, you'll see that he's not retarded in the least. He's just a lovable goof, sort of like a big floppy eared dog. Everybody loves him but get a bit annoyed when he humps their legs.

So I hope this clears things up.

Love you sweetness.

Big Daddy

(p.s. something tells me that I'll be writing an apology to Uncle Darren next)

Recycling

Things haven't changed much recently so I have nothing to blog about (where are my SSUSA posts you might ask? maybe next week) so I'm going to recycle some of my favorite posts from my now defunct DAMNelson's blog which charted the first few years of Brynna's youth.  Rehash #1 will be useful for any man need to learn how to change diapers.  Enjoy.

Episode 1 of Ricky's Knee is actually a post from a couple of weeks ago titled "How to be a good dad". In it, I described (duh) how to be a good dad. I've decided that for Episode 2 I will elaborate on my first two rules of being a good dad. Changing diapers and getting poo on your fingers in the process. Actually, more specifically, how to check to see if a diaper needs to be changed without getting poo finger.

If, while holding your baby, you detect a hint of baby potpourri, there are a series of checks you can make to confirm the presence of dookie.

Step one: With thumb and finger grasp the bottom of the diaper and give er a squeeze. Did it feel like a tube of toothpaste? If so, go on to step 2. If not, you're probably in the clear because it was just a cute little baby fart. Baby farts are cute, daddy farts are not. Why is this? Discuss.

Step two: While facing the baby away from you and holding her under the arms, proceed to jamb your nose into the back of the diaper and take a giant wiff. Do you feel like passing out? If so, move on to step 3. If not, rejoice in the fact that you didn't just stick your nose mere fractions of an inch of baby butt vomit.

Step three: This is where things can go horribly wrong. Very carefully grasp the back of the diaper at the waist band, pull it out and peer down baby's plumbers crack. Be very, very careful not to grasp the inside of the waist band. I have made this mistake before and got the ole stink finger. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you have poo on your finger of if you were smart enough to simply see the poo go onto step 4.

Step four: Arguably the most important step takes a bit of finesse. In your most frantic voice, yell to your wife that you "think" baby needs a change but you just realized you forgot to check the headlight fluid in the car (the gullibility/intelligence of your wife will dictate how believable the story needs to be) and that you need to get to it immediately. If you successfully weezled your way out of changing the diaper, proceed to step 5. If you're stuck doing it yourself, you're on your own.

Step five: Sneak out to the garage where you secretly stashed a mini fridge stocked with beer. Pop open a beer while randomly clanging various objects around the garage to feign productivity. Enjoy the beer, you've earned it.

Lazy Days 

Marcy pointed out to me yesterday that I'm in a bit of this vid (doing push-ups at the end (gray baggy shorts with bibs hanging out)) so this will pass as today's post. Enjoy.
Watch more video of Dejay Birtch on cyclingdirt.org

An Explanation 

It occurred to me over the weekend that I didn't really explain my injury very well over the last two weeks.  Sure, I gave a brief description but I feel a better one is required.  I blame it on all of the pain meds.

A broken hip is a fairly common injury (who doesn't have a grandparent who broke a hip?) and generally heals pretty quickly and easily (assuming you don't have underlying health issues).  Unfortunately for me, I like to turn things up a notch and do things right so I had to fracture my femoral head in a unique way.  The normal direction of a hip fracture is helped by muscle movement with the muscles actually pulling the bone back together facilitating healing.  In some cases, this allows folks with broken hips to walk (tentatively) within a week or so.  Me?  I had to get creative and break my hip at a odd angle so that every time I use my leg, it pulls the bone apart.  This means 6-8 weeks of non-weight bearing.  Awesomeness.   Did I mention it's my right hip so I can't drive either?  Extra awesomeness!

To be honest, while what I described above sucks, the real suckiness revolves around my long term prognosis.  There are two possible "issues" that might crop up.  In the next few months, I'll know if the bone is going to heal properly or not.  Yes, that's right, because of the nature of the break, it may never heal which would require me to have a hip replacement late this fall (and then going through all this non-weight bearing nonsense again).  Secondly (and of most concern) is that even if my hip does heal, there is a chance that the bone will die within 24 months because of compromised blood flow again requiring a hip replacement.

That's a long time to think.

You may wonder why my surgeon didn't just do a hip replacement while they had a chance.  Good question.  The reason is that because of my age, if the hip does in fact heal properly, having my own hip is best for the long haul (fake hips have a life span as well as some limitations).

So that this post isn't all about doom and gloom (whoa is me!), I'll also grace you with this sweet video of my rocking a power buggie at Home Depot last week.  Drove the ladies wild!

Cringe Worthy 

Despite how crappy the weekend ended, the days leading up to the Hip-ocalypse were quite fun. Downright awesome actually. Arriving in Vermont early on Friday afternoon allowed me to meet up with Tyler (he who beat me at the carrabassett 50 last year) for a fun close to three hour tour of the trails around Stowe. Not how I would typically spend the day before a big race but I wasn't taking SS USA seriously anyway.  Instead, I was there to ride my bike and have fun so it was all good. After the ride, a dip in the Mad River was had and then beers and burgers at the Matterhorn during the registration party.

Saturday brought a very fun SS USA hosted by Bike29.  I've never before managed to have four beers during a race and still finish well and have fun.  That post will be coming shortly.  Firstly though, is the horrid interview I gave to ThomP  for the Cycling Dirt Page.  It makes me cringe to watch it so please be kind.  Remember, I'm very sensitive these days.  :)
Watch more video of 2012 SSUSA on thom.cyclingdirt.org

Shower Time 

The day last week that I left the hospital, I insisted on taking a shower since they had an almost handicap shower with rails and a chair available and I didn't know when I'd have another chance for a shower since our only shower currently resides on the second floor.

The first few days at home, I subsisted with wet washcloth and baby wipe wipedowns. It wasn't long though that we realized that something had to happen and soon; all night sweats and lots of couch time had given me a serious case of swamp ass as well as a general body funk.

Like the good, sexy nurse that she is, Marcy headed off to buy me a solar shower so I could get my suds on out on the front porch. Oh glory be was it delectable!

 had to keep the undies on because even though we live in the 

boonies, we have a 6 yr old in residence

 the ducks patiently waited their turns

the only thing that would make this pic sexier is if I had long 

flowing hair to toss around instead of a nipple beard.

Hopefully indoor showers will be doable soon but, for now, this will allow Marcy (and anybody else) to be near me without being personally offended.

Hip Photo Blog 

 Hill Junkie requested some photos, so here you go.

The hip this morning.  It's bruising nicely but the pain has mostly subsided as long as I don't do anything stupid (like trying to use it like I almost did in a drug induced haze the other night).

Hip bandage free to expose the 7 staples from surgery.  Gonna leave a gnarly scar but it will be right next to the scar I have from my first bike related concussion when I was around 8-10 years old.

The only real road rash that I have is on my right elbow. I'm also sporting a couple of stitches right on my elbow.

Couple of x-rays of the fracture.  I'll let you find the problem.  I don't have the eye for it.

An Update 

If you're friends with me on Facebook, you've probably seen the cryptic post I made from the back of an ambulance on Sunday and then the subsequent only slightly less cryptic description a day or two later.

Folks have been curious about details so I'll start to fill them in here.  I'm pretty dopey (more on that later) so I'm gonna keep it short and sweet.

Sunday I went for a sweet ride in the hills of Waitsfield with my buddies Jeff and Andy.  There was talk about hitting up the Mad River after the ride for a quick dip before my 5 hour drive home.

As we finished up the 3 hour ride, we descended a gravel to pavement road.  As we got onto the pavement, I glanced back to make sure Andy had made the turn at the top of the hill not realizing that Jeff was slowing down to go down to the river (I thought we were going to the cars first).  When I turned back, I was on top of Jeff and had no time to swerve, grab brake or do any other sort of evasive maneuver.   Here is the GoPro video of the ensuing crash.

Jeff and I went down in a pile.  I immediately knew that something was very wrong because I had difficulty rolling over.  Hoping that it was a case of getting stunned, I laid there hoping to be a be able to walk it off.  After about 15 minutes, it was obvious that I was in trouble and an ambulance was called.

A half hour ambulance ride was followed by x-rays (and some of the worst pain I've ever experienced when my foot got stuck on a sheet) and the prognosis that I had a fractured femoral head (crushed actually) and surgery was going to be necessary.  That's right folks, 37 year old has a broken hip and the very distinct possibility of a hip replacement in my near future if the bone doesn't recover.

More as I find the time and clarity through the many pain meds.