The morning began not unlike many other Sunday mornings, only this day my life would change forever. It was a beautiful spring day March 17, 1985. I stepped out into the morning air and took a deep breath; the cool morning air filled my lungs with exhilaration. I went about my morning routine as I had done many times in the past. With mechanical precision I prepared my motorcycle for the day of nonstop action. I was in my element and had been through this ritual numerous times and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
The quiet almost serene morning air was shattered by the sound of a two-stroke motor buzzing in the distance; the sound of the powerful motor broke the morning silence like the roar of a wild animal. As the sound grew nearer, adrenaline began to flow through my veins and left an almost acidic taste in my mouth. It was days like this that I lived for. Racing was my lifeblood and becoming one with my machinery was how I expressed my freedom and my creativity. Fastening the strap on my helmet, an electric buzz filled my body. Sitting on my bike, the harmonic tune of the motor pulsated through my veins; with each turn of the throttle my heartbeat raced.
The crisp morning air mixed with the sweet smell of exhaust filled my nostrils. This was a perfect day; the morning dew left a moist layer on the soil and the cool air was just what the engine on my machine craved. The first morning ride was epic. I felt as one with my motorcycle, working together like it was an extension of my body. My every move calculated as if it was planned, entering turns as if they were choreographed, exiting them with speed and precision. I felt as if nothing could go wrong; I was in complete control of my surroundings. Motocross was my escape from the pressures of everyday life. It was my outlet in which I could leave problems behind and become one with my bike without a care in the world. Little did I know that the sport that brought me so much joy would also be the one that would cause my life to change forever. Later, on this seemingly beautiful day, my life would never be the same.
A small crowd had gathered at the base of Competition Hill; this was known as one of the most difficult and treacherous spots in the entire fourteen hundred acre riding facility. The hill stood roughly two hundred and fifty feet tall, the base began with a gradual incline and as it progressed upwards the path got very steep and ended with a nearly vertical thirty-foot face. I sat atop the mountain and peered across the valley below; the blue sky was a contrast to the rolling green hills. Reaching down with my right hand I flicked out the kick-starter and fired up my machine; my senses heightened as the motor came to life. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I clicked the transmission into gear and released the clutch. Approaching the face, I gave a strong twist of the throttle and launched off the mountain, airborne dropping down the thirty-foot vertical face I let the bike drift underneath me as to position myself towards the rear of the motorcycle. Suddenly, a giant burst of adrenaline shot through my entire body as my wheels came in contact with the terrain; the soft soil gave way and broke free underneath me and I began to lose traction. The only chance I had to save it was to grab a handful of throttle and hopefully regain traction I had lost; as the motor accelerated, the bike pitched and was now in a fully out of control two wheel slide. Applying firm pressure on both front a rear brakes in hopes to control the slide was my only hope. The wheels locked in the soft soil and my momentum momentarily slowed; I was now in real trouble. On the mountain where the vertical face ends you have a choice of a left or right path; where they meet is a five to ten foot high raised area that has been formed from years of erosion and bikes traveling up and down the mountain. I was headed right for this raised area and with the brakes locked I had no where near the momentum to make the right or left path; with one last desperate attempt to get out of this grave situation I released the brakes and grabbed a handful of throttle in hopes of making it to the right side path. Just as I approached the intersection of the two paths my rear wheel completely broke free and threw me in an out of control slide that slammed my bike into the raised wall of the intersection. My bike violently high-sided and threw me cart wheeling into to air. The biggest fear that went through my mind was my bike coming over the top and slamming into me as I tumbled down the mountain. Like a scene from a movie, I was uncontrollably somersaulting; all I could see was ground-sky, ground-sky, and ground-sky.
It seemed to last for hours, the force of each somersault was greater and greater. For a split second everything came to just about a halt, like someone had pressed the slow motion button on a VCR. My body was positioned upside down with head pointing downhill as my legs slowly came over the top of me like a swimmer diving into a pool in the pike position. Just as my shoulders made contact with the ground I let out a loud groan and my legs violently slammed into my body, the force of the fall literally broke my spine in half. The concussion of the impact slowed the remaining few tumbles and my body came to rest in a patch of large manzanita bushes. My entire world came to a halt as I lay there, slowly gathering my senses I took inventory of the situation. A loud almost electric buzz filled my ears; it came from deep inside my body like a giant coil spring had become un-sprung. The sound was nearly deafening as I shook my head to make it go away. Feeling no pain what so ever I tried to get to my feet yet was unable to move. Fear began to grip me; at this point I was more concerned with the condition of my motorcycle. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, as I exhaled I opened my eyes and re assessed my situation, something was terribly wrong. Lying there on the mountain, I realized the strange position my body had landed in, my back and shoulders were resting against the mountain and my legs were only a couple feet from my face. I began to panic as I came to realize the severity of the situation; I was broken in half. Staring at my boots, I noticed a piece of manzanita clinging to the tip of my toes. My first reaction was to knock my boots together and the branch would fall from my boots, I was unable to move my legs. From this moment on my life would never be the same.
This is an excerpt out of a book about Joni Eareckson describing her accident. It was the 1st book i read after my injury and her explanation is so spot on to my experience that even reading it today the hair on the back of my neck literally stands on end.
She is an amazing woman who overcame so much at a time when very little was known about spinal cord injuries compared to today. She was injured in 1967!
To learn more see her on wiki: Joni Eareckson Tada
Here is the pic of the hardware in my spine, i call it my "Frankenspine"
The quiet almost serene morning air was shattered by the sound of a two-stroke motor buzzing in the distance; the sound of the powerful motor broke the morning silence like the roar of a wild animal. As the sound grew nearer, adrenaline began to flow through my veins and left an almost acidic taste in my mouth. It was days like this that I lived for. Racing was my lifeblood and becoming one with my machinery was how I expressed my freedom and my creativity. Fastening the strap on my helmet, an electric buzz filled my body. Sitting on my bike, the harmonic tune of the motor pulsated through my veins; with each turn of the throttle my heartbeat raced.
The crisp morning air mixed with the sweet smell of exhaust filled my nostrils. This was a perfect day; the morning dew left a moist layer on the soil and the cool air was just what the engine on my machine craved. The first morning ride was epic. I felt as one with my motorcycle, working together like it was an extension of my body. My every move calculated as if it was planned, entering turns as if they were choreographed, exiting them with speed and precision. I felt as if nothing could go wrong; I was in complete control of my surroundings. Motocross was my escape from the pressures of everyday life. It was my outlet in which I could leave problems behind and become one with my bike without a care in the world. Little did I know that the sport that brought me so much joy would also be the one that would cause my life to change forever. Later, on this seemingly beautiful day, my life would never be the same.
A small crowd had gathered at the base of Competition Hill; this was known as one of the most difficult and treacherous spots in the entire fourteen hundred acre riding facility. The hill stood roughly two hundred and fifty feet tall, the base began with a gradual incline and as it progressed upwards the path got very steep and ended with a nearly vertical thirty-foot face. I sat atop the mountain and peered across the valley below; the blue sky was a contrast to the rolling green hills. Reaching down with my right hand I flicked out the kick-starter and fired up my machine; my senses heightened as the motor came to life. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I clicked the transmission into gear and released the clutch. Approaching the face, I gave a strong twist of the throttle and launched off the mountain, airborne dropping down the thirty-foot vertical face I let the bike drift underneath me as to position myself towards the rear of the motorcycle. Suddenly, a giant burst of adrenaline shot through my entire body as my wheels came in contact with the terrain; the soft soil gave way and broke free underneath me and I began to lose traction. The only chance I had to save it was to grab a handful of throttle and hopefully regain traction I had lost; as the motor accelerated, the bike pitched and was now in a fully out of control two wheel slide. Applying firm pressure on both front a rear brakes in hopes to control the slide was my only hope. The wheels locked in the soft soil and my momentum momentarily slowed; I was now in real trouble. On the mountain where the vertical face ends you have a choice of a left or right path; where they meet is a five to ten foot high raised area that has been formed from years of erosion and bikes traveling up and down the mountain. I was headed right for this raised area and with the brakes locked I had no where near the momentum to make the right or left path; with one last desperate attempt to get out of this grave situation I released the brakes and grabbed a handful of throttle in hopes of making it to the right side path. Just as I approached the intersection of the two paths my rear wheel completely broke free and threw me in an out of control slide that slammed my bike into the raised wall of the intersection. My bike violently high-sided and threw me cart wheeling into to air. The biggest fear that went through my mind was my bike coming over the top and slamming into me as I tumbled down the mountain. Like a scene from a movie, I was uncontrollably somersaulting; all I could see was ground-sky, ground-sky, and ground-sky.
It seemed to last for hours, the force of each somersault was greater and greater. For a split second everything came to just about a halt, like someone had pressed the slow motion button on a VCR. My body was positioned upside down with head pointing downhill as my legs slowly came over the top of me like a swimmer diving into a pool in the pike position. Just as my shoulders made contact with the ground I let out a loud groan and my legs violently slammed into my body, the force of the fall literally broke my spine in half. The concussion of the impact slowed the remaining few tumbles and my body came to rest in a patch of large manzanita bushes. My entire world came to a halt as I lay there, slowly gathering my senses I took inventory of the situation. A loud almost electric buzz filled my ears; it came from deep inside my body like a giant coil spring had become un-sprung. The sound was nearly deafening as I shook my head to make it go away. Feeling no pain what so ever I tried to get to my feet yet was unable to move. Fear began to grip me; at this point I was more concerned with the condition of my motorcycle. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, as I exhaled I opened my eyes and re assessed my situation, something was terribly wrong. Lying there on the mountain, I realized the strange position my body had landed in, my back and shoulders were resting against the mountain and my legs were only a couple feet from my face. I began to panic as I came to realize the severity of the situation; I was broken in half. Staring at my boots, I noticed a piece of manzanita clinging to the tip of my toes. My first reaction was to knock my boots together and the branch would fall from my boots, I was unable to move my legs. From this moment on my life would never be the same.
This is an excerpt out of a book about Joni Eareckson describing her accident. It was the 1st book i read after my injury and her explanation is so spot on to my experience that even reading it today the hair on the back of my neck literally stands on end.
She is an amazing woman who overcame so much at a time when very little was known about spinal cord injuries compared to today. She was injured in 1967!
To learn more see her on wiki: Joni Eareckson Tada
Here is the pic of the hardware in my spine, i call it my "Frankenspine"
3/18/2010 10:43am
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