How I Got My Groove Back: A Story About Covid, Cardio, and Regaining Confidence

A few years ago I had a bad bike crash on my way to work.

I was distracted, going fast, and almost missed my turn. I grabbed too much brake, leaned too far, and didn’t see the loose dirt on the road. Bike slid out from under me and I felt like Wile E. Coyote hovering in the air long enough to regret how I got there.

I hit both knees, both palms, both elbows, and my helmet visor in quick succession. My helmet tilted back and visor nearly snapped, but I wss glad that wasn’t my bare forehead. My jeans ripped, ungloved palms and now bare knees skimmed.

I laid in pain for a few seconds, maybe thirty, and hobbled up as fast as I could. It was a busy road turning onto a quiet side road so the risk of being in the way of traffic was not high, but not nil.

I dragged my bike to the side of the road, threw it down and continued to wince at my wounds. They weren’t deep, but they did sting, and I certainly banged up my wrists and knees. Wasn’t the first time, but getting older I can tell you they certainly do accumulate, no matter how well you think they heal.

I wasn’t a mile from my apartment, and had a mile and a half to go to work. I should have turned back and called in sick there, but my ego was too bruised for that. I righted my bike and limped up the hill, raw palms stinging on the handlebars. I pedaled slowly, putting little power through my knees and gingerly holding the bars. Once I got to the Rail Trail it was a bit smoother, and the pain was subsiding some.

I approach Morgan Lake and see two cyclists dismounted and chatting on a pull off area on the tiny bridge that crosses the stream that feeds the lake. Curiously, I only saw one bike between the two of them, and while I stared trying to figure out where the other bike must be, I crashed into it in the middle of the trail. Embarrassed, I apologize without voicing my frustration of finding a bike in the middle of the path. I should have seen it, but I was distracted, blind, and concussed. Still, who leaves their bike in the middle of the path?

With a second crash under my belt that day, I finally made it to work. I stepped off the bike, legs trembling with adrenaline, weakness, and relief, I made my way inside. I don’t remember reporting my injuries, just clocking in and washing up. I don’t think I even covered my wounds, I rarely did then.

The work day wasn’t particularly hard, so I made it through to the end with relative ease, which I found strange. I biked home without issue despite difficulty holding the bars still, and nervousness about running into more unattended bikes. I told my wife the whole story and showed off my wounds, and I think they dressed them for me.

The next morning I awoke with no will to go to work, a dull ache across my whole body, and a brain fog I just then realized I had more of the day before and less of then. I hadn’t considered a concussion until then, but I was sure. So I called out to take a three day weekend to recover.

I didn’t ride my bike much after that. My wife either got work from home privileges or shifted their work schedule, I can’t remember which or both, but they were able to start driving me every day. Eventually we moved further away and biking to work became inopportune, so I continued to get driven in.

Then COVID hit, and I became more risk averse, not wanting to chance a trip to the hospitals that were over burdened and a high infection risk. So I become more shut in, more anxious, and less active. I gained a fair bit of weight and lost a lot of strength. But most of all I lost confidence in myself.

I finally started getting active again. It began with buying dumbbells and an indoor bike, though I didn’t use them much at first. Then I started walking and hiking with friends. I started going to the gym with my wife, and eventually started more home workouts.

Then I finally washed and tuned up my bike. I got back on the saddle for the first time in two years to test the shifters and brakes. It felt so alien. My wrists were weak from hyper flexation years before I never worked to heal. Holding the bars strained my wrists and I didn’t know how to hold the bars. This was going to be difficult.

I hadn’t forgotten how to ride, but I certainly forgot a lot of the finer points. I forgot how to shift my weight, I forgot just how much to feather the brake, my turning radius was as wide as a tractor, and mild descents were intimidating. I returned my bike to the garage and left it for the season.

I hiked. I ran. I lifted. I gained cardio and leg strength back. I still had to work on my upper body and core, but I was losing weight and gaining mobility. My chronic pain and fatigue were lessening, but still a drain on me. And my wrists were still my weakest link. I couldn’t do push ups or chin ups. Even propping myself up to get off the floor could often irritate either wrist for a week.

I was getting fitter, but I couldn’t advance much without retraining my wrists. I should have seen a doctor, but for reasons I had been averse to going to doctors for years. I was getting better about making and keeping appointments, but I procrastinated even asking about physical therapy. But I did watch workout videos on YouTube. I knew I had to be careful not to overtrain my wrists or risk worse injury. I work a warehouse, I wouldn’t be much use without my hands.

Wall push ups became my best friend. Push ups on my knees still put too much pressure on my wrists with my body weight. But wall push ups were so much more customizable. I found positions that wouldn’t hurt my wrists and would work different parts of my upper body.

Over months, my wrists hurt less frequently, and it became harder to irritate them, and they stopped hurting sooner. I could finally start to see results. I used my adjustable dumbbells as lever weights to further train my wrists and forearms, and I wss surprised with what I could do.

I brought out the bike and tentatively rode on quiet streets. I eased into cornering, descending, and braking hard. I made a circuit at Vanderbilt that had a steep paved descent, a hard turn onto an unpaved trail with rough and loose sections, a steep paved climb, and a relative flat section to loop back around or exit toward home.

I started slow, almost falling on the paved descent, relearning the balance of braking while cornering. I almost fell in the loose descents of the unpaved trail. I experimented with different pressures on my slick road tires and found more traction, gaining speed and confidence, but it was still very sketchy. I eventually bought treadier tires which helped immensely with confidence on the loose and in the corners of the paved.

I eventually managed a 25 mile ride on the relatively smooth rail trail, a 20 mile adventure on the much bumpier trail, continued improving my lap times on my circuit, and finally felt like a bike lover again.

Bringing us to last week, I was at a small gym with my friend. I was singing the praises of wall push ups and the magic they’ve worked for me, saying “I think I’ll be able to do push ups soon! Let me try and see if I can do one now.”

I dropped to the floor and got in position. Went down without much strain, and pushed up with more force than I intended and almost hopped. I did another with elation. My wrists were hardly a hinderance, and my strength was unexpected. I did fifteen with more in the tank and stopped while I was ahead, not wanting to risk my wrists still. But the feeling was electric. I felt like I could wrestle a bull.

I think my confidence is back.

David Degnan is a legally blind cyclist and photographer who uses his impairment to look at life from a different angle.

Photo by Carter Moorse on Unsplash