Ouch

As some of you, who have been reading my tweets will know, I had a bike crash on Thursday.

I've crashed my bikes innumerable times:

-Oops, overshot that jump

-Oops, not quite enough speed for that drop

-Oops, where did that rock come from etc, etc, etc

All my previous crashes have had something in common. They were all my fault. I didn't read the trail properly, incorrect speed for the conditions or just d'oh, that was stupid. Thursday's crash was a bit different.

I was trying to muster up enthusiasm to ride all day. It was chilly, grey, windy. I was feeling generally a bit low (thanks head). Finally, at 14.30 I hauled myself out of the house, on my beautiful, shiny road bike. It's been a few weeks since I last rode it. I'd forgotten how quickly it accelerates on those beautiful smooth tyres. Out of the saddle, up the gentle hill out of the door of my sister's house. The sun was out, my clothes were perfect for the conditions. I felt good already, and I'd only gone 100 metres. Pulled out on to the main road and zip, zip, zip as cranked up to a comfortable speed and span "I've been sitting down all day" legs out.

Up the A65 and out onto quieter back lanes, somewhere between Horsforth and Ilkley. Roads I've not ridden or driven since living in Yeadon around 7 years ago. Headwind felt like a chore, but who cares. It'll be a tailwind on the way home. Everything was perfect. Climbs were taken with the perfect cadence. Alberto would need to eat all the dodgy meat in the world to ride faster than me today.

Arrived at the Cow and Calf and had a quick can of coke from the little cabin. Turned around and headed home. If I was feeling good on the way out, I felt superhuman on the way home. The power of the tailwind. Better than Fabian's motor. Nearly back to the A65, down Hollins Hill and back up Old Hollings Hill, just for the sake of it. Rejoin the A65, and steady away back down to Pooky and Grumps for an espresso in the sun.

Cruising along, noticing the early evening commuters heading home, mums finishing school runs. Feeling smug that perhaps being on sick leave has a couple of benefits.

Into the drops as the A65 steadily descends down to the ring road. Spinning at 30mph, one finger on the brakes, ready for the usual bad driving.

Then something went a bit wrong. Riding past a side road on the left, a driver is looking to her left, indicating to turn right. I can't make eye contact, as she is looking the other way. I instinctively drift a little wider into the middle of the lane. I pass her, then BANG.

I'm down and slide down the tarmac on my back side. I feel the back of my helmet dragging on the road. I slide, and slide and slide. I'm never going to stop. FUCK. She hit me. The stupid fucking bitch, fucking hit me! I eventually come to a halt. Everything is very, very quiet. I'm conscious and aware that I don't think I'm hurt. I'm tangled around the bike and I don't want to move. So just lie and look up at the blue, blue sky. Please, please, please don't let me have broken anything. Please. I need cycling now. I need it more than I need anti-depressives, I need it more than I need almost anything.

The blue sky fills with concerned, shocked, white faces. An ambulance is on its way. I'm helped to the pavement and the adrenaline kicks it. I'm ok. My bike is a mess, but I'm ok. Grazes, bruises, but nothing else. I almost smile. The driver comes over. She is shaking, crying. Every bit of anger I have for, every bit of vengeance I want to take out, I bury. Now isn't the time. She knows the gravity of her actions.

.... ok, this is turning into a bit of an epic post, so lets speed things up a bit...

Ambulance arrives. They are ace. I'm ok. Hot paramedic applies dressing to my bum. Score.

Police arrive. Witnesses give statements confirming driver is at fault.

I give statement, and get all the drivers details from the officer.

Lift back to my sisters, and I'm high as a kite on adrenaline.

And take out my anger by swearing a lot

.... The police have told me the driver will have to do an "improve your driving" course, at her own cost (approx £200). If she refuses to, they will charge her with driving without due care and attention.

I'm alive I can still ride. Bizarrely, after a lot of weeks of wishing I was dead, this is very good news.