I shattered my neck in a traumatic mountain bike crash. Now, I have two titanium rods and sixteen screws holding my neck together and protecting my spinal cord. Recovery meant persevering through intense physical therapy but I quickly realized my mental health needed focus too. “Forever Stoked” was my life persona before the accident and I used it to get me through the physical and mental challenges of my life’s reset. It’s more than just a sticker on the walker that I pushed for 8-miles while wearing my neck brace – it was my recovery mantra.
I shattered my neck in a traumatic mountain bike crash. Now, I have two titanium rods and sixteen screws holding my neck together and protecting my spinal cord. Recovery meant persevering through intense physical therapy but I quickly realized my mental health needed focus too. “Forever Stoked” was my life persona before the accident and I used it to get me through the physical and mental challenges of my life’s reset. It’s more than just a sticker on the walker that I pushed for 8-miles while wearing my neck brace – it was my recovery mantra.
What happened? How did I get here? Even the doctors at the trauma unit had to ask me “what happened, how did you get here?”
I my case I found my body flying uncontrollably in the air, terrified about what is happening; one big blur that had no answers.
Bam! Somehow it got away from us. ‘It’ being our health, our mindset, our drive. Maybe we're sad, maybe we're disappointed, embarrassed, scared, maybe a bit confused and don’t know where to begin. We yearn for the ‘other me’ that was pretty healthy and active. I certainly yearned to be out of the trauma unit and subsequent Intensive Care Units.
I’ve previously completed 5 Ironman triathlons, did tons of marathons, I surfed, hiked, swam, cycled, backpacked, ski black diamond trails, and other events. Now I’m hearing the doctors say “we need to see if you can stand and take a few steps”. For me, the shock and trauma was real. What happened? How did I get here? What I had to do from here, it wasn’t easy, wasn’t fun and brought me new levels of pain I didn’t think were possible.
I've learned firsthand, starting out is the toughest. It can be embarrassing, painful and overwhelming, but worth every ounce of pain and effort and mental work to ‘reset’ ourselves.
THE CRASH
June 1st was a beautiful sunny, warm Southern California day. I was with my friend Delaware Dave. Our plan was to take our mountain bikes up various trails to the peak of Topa Topa Mountain, which is 5,000 feet up. We spent 4 hours pushing, carrying and at times riding our mountain bikes uphill to the peak.
Once at the peak, we’d simply ride down the fire road. For those of you unfamiliar with this, a fire road is like a dirt road and trail for the fire crews to get up there in case there are fires up in the mountains
Dave and I made it to the peak. We then got on our bikes to head down, Dave is in the lead.
We have 8 miles of downhill dirt fire road in front of us. I’m rolling about 15 to 18 miles an hour. Dave quickly faded ahead of me and around a corner. We go down about ¾ mile and I looked at the overgrown weeds/brush at the edge of the road that were at my front tire. At that moment I realized my front tire was going in a hole that looked about 3 feet deep and 4 feet wide, it was covered by the weeds.
I knew there was no escaping this. I remember thinking, "I'm screwed." It happened in a flash. Since I was going downhill and the hole is angled, instead of hitting and going over the handlebars, the bike hit at the perfect angle and exploded all the energy at an angle to launch me and the bike, upwards and forward. I let out this weird gasp, instead of a scream or anything like that. I think it was pure shock and fear of what was happening. Helplessness.
Once in the air, I lost all sensory perception. I didn't see the ground, I didn't see the sky, I didn't hear anything. There's absolutely nothing going on except I knew I was in the air. I remember thinking, "You're up here a really long time, like a really long time." I started to feel my head pulling me down, that’s when I realized I was coming down on my head with the rest of my body above me.
When I realized I was coming down on my head, I started to do a chin tuck and as I started to tilt my neck and my chin in, my body corkscrewed into the ground. Head-first and body above me. It was one big crunch. The impact was severe and my body and brain were in full shock. I instantly knew it was bad, real bad. To put it in perspective, later on we realized I had probably gone about 25-30 feet horizontally, and I was probably up about eight feet in the air.
Miraculously I don’t get knocked out. (Yes, I was wearing a helmet)
I've been hurt a few times before from minor things such as a broken nose, bruised ribs, sutures, but I knew this was way beyond anything ‘normal’. The pain was just so different.
I'm on the ground, in shock. I don't know what’s going on, Severe pain burning up my left side of my upper body, as though a metal rod was burning inside me. I knew instantly this was very serious and possibly life threatening.
I couldn't stand, in fact my brain told my legs not to do anything, don’t even try. I could barely move my arms. Things were not working properly and the pain raged. Somehow, I was able to pull my small camelback off and started blowing the emergency whistle tied to the outside. I kept blowing the whistle knowing my friend Dave, ahead of me, routinely stops to make sure that whoever he's with is still with him. I knew he would backtrack but had no idea how far ahead he had gone. No response or sight of him, I was running on pure adrenaline, and I knew I needed to be rescued.
I dug into my camelback looking for my phone, and I know a 911 call is my only chance. Most of the day we didn’t get a signal. As I found my phone…That's when Dave arrived. I’m on the ground screaming and saying ‘call 911, I’m really messed up, I’m hurt bad”. He’s in shock now, all he kept saying was, "Oh, no, oh, no, no…oh man, damn... Oh, Rich." He found me in extreme pain, shock and he could tell I'm was in really bad shape.
He didn't realize until I told him that I came down on my head and my neck and corkscrewed into the ground. Miraculously, we're 5000 feet up, and miraculously, we're at the only place where there is a cell signal, he called 911. Emergency responders had him turn on the compass on the iPhone and he read our coordinates to them. They now knew our exact location on the mountain, the helicopter was on the way. At this point I was now just lying on the ground not moving. Dave kept telling me, "Do not move. Rich, do not move." I have one of my best friends right there absolutely helping me, making sure I'm okay, at least as best he could.
Luckily, they were able to land the helicopter on the mountain, as we were above the fog layer. If they can’t land and have to send a ground crew, it’s not likely I’d survive this.
From a fun sunny day, to being carried on a backboard, with a neck brace, head taped down, morphine in my body and loaded into a search and rescue helicopter- headed to the regional trauma unit. All in an hour.
There was no room for Dave in the helicopter so he had to get down for himself, which is kind of sucky because the last thing I told Dave was, "Don't tell anybody what happened," which is kind of weird, but I've read that's what you do when you're in shock; when you know it's severe. He repeated that and said, “Did you say don’t tell anybody what happened???!” I said “Right, do not tell anybody anything”. Fortunately, he ignored my stupid instructions and started letting friends and family know I was on my way to the trauma hospital via helicopter. Thanks again Dave!
HOSPITAL
The trauma surgeon leaned over to me as I’m on the backboard and said, "Rich, you have a severely broken neck and one vertebrae is dislodged". Those words stopped me. I paused my entire brain and it left me mentally numb. It was then followed by, “We need to get the pressure off your spinal cord. We need to do some procedures that are going to hurt really bad and you need to be awake for this.”
My girlfriend, Melanie, was right there, my buddy Sal was right there and I didn't really know how to respond to anything mentally because my brain couldn't believe what was happening.
I remember Dr. Lee, in Ventura, California, she’s been amazing. Dr. Lee completed the painful steps to get the dislodged vertebrae and other pieces off of my spinal cord because it was all mashing the spinal cord.
Next I went into an eight-hour surgery. First through the front of my neck, then from the back they started at the base of my skull and ended up at the middle of my shoulder blades. The injuries were more extensive than initially suspected. And the previously dislodged vertebrae had dislodged again. From the back, the neurosurgeon got a better sense of the damage and it was extensive.
Two vertebrae were completely broken outright, I had ruptured all the ligaments in almost my entire neck and my upper back. The ligaments hold all the bones in place, so when I ruptured all the ligaments, all the bones were twisted around and mashing my spinal cord.
Two titanium rods and 16 screws, screwed into all the vertebrae of my neck, are now what is holding my neck together and keeping my spinal cord safe. I now have a metal neck. For those of you familiar with the cervical terms, I am fused from C3 to T2.
It's quite a miracle that I'm even alive, that I didn't die on impact from what happened or waiting for rescue. Most medical staff are shocked that I’m walking and moving my arms.
I was healthy, feeling good, now I'm in an ICU with all the tubes, monitors, neck brace and in lots of pain. How did I get here? It's like life, "How did I get here?" It's like all of our lives when we lose our fitness and lose our shape and we need some help. It's, "How did I get here?” Didn’t matter, it was real, I was in ICU with a metal neck.
One of my best friends, Joe, is doctor at another hospital. He saw me after surgery and said “Your recovery is going to be like you are training for an Ironman, but this will be your toughest one yet. There will be weeks where it really sucks. But it will get better.” I sort of thought I knew what was in store, but his words echoed in my brain for a long time.
STARTING TO WALK
I left that trauma unit and got transferred to a neurosurgery care ward at another hospital in Los Angeles.
The goal was to get me to stand, with a walker. I’d be lying down, they’d help me sit up and then I’d have intense pain on both of my shoulders. It felt like 5,000 pounds of pressure on each shoulder. I’d suffer through the pain and then they’d help me to my feet, where the pain increased further and my blood pressure would drop and I’d basically pass out, sometimes I’d get vertigo as a bonus. Back in bed, on my back. We tried that 3 days straight, several times a day with no luck. The initial injury, the spinal cord slam, followed by the major surgery; my body wasn’t ready.
My two grown daughters arrive from Texas and saw their athletic and extremely active Dad in the neck brace, barely able to move, in pain and can’t stand up. No plan, no way out, no answers: this was not the Dad they knew over the years who would race events, hike mountains, trek around the globe, surf, bike and everything else. The medical team had a medical plan, that takes time. I had no plan of my own to get going. No plan, that simple.
It was now, 5 days after my accident and major surgery, and I decided to quit all painkillers and drugs (except for Tylenol). It was painful to go through, but I could feel what my body felt like and my brain was a bit clearer. I could think of how to meditate, breathe and cry through the pain. Quitting the drugs was the best decision I ever made.
My daughters and I decided any plan for me was better than laying there with no plan.
Our plan was:
I moved and the pain was immense. I lay there and tears flowed from my eyes. My youngest was on a chair tying a balloon up for me and saw me and said “Dad, what is it?”.
THE MELTDOWN
This is where I became a victim and had a meltdown. I said, "It’s the pain. It hurts SO much, I can't stand this. I don't want to be here. I can't believe this happened. I just want to go home.” This was very real and at this moment I didn’t want it to be real. But it WAS in fact, reality. I was now a victim.
My oldest hated seeing me in such pain and said, “Dad if it hurts that bad, take ½ pain pill.” I said “No, I’m not taking any pain pills, those are bad news!”. My youngest said, “Did you cry yet today?” I said “No.” She said, “Ok, then you used up your one, so now get through the rest of the day”.
That’s the only time I allowed myself to become a victim, a total of one hour. Then I got back to the program of getting back to the life I wanted.
In retrospect, the ‘meltdown’ was actually the ‘reset’. It’s from that point forward where I started to manage whatever I was capable of and my progress of recovery started.
My daughters had to return to Texas, we didn’t imagine I’d still be unable to stand when we made their travel arrangements. I urged them to fly back home to their commitments and fly back to LA when needed. I was good enough for them to go home.
FIRST STEPS IN THE HOSPITAL
The next day my girlfriend Melanie is with me. The occupational therapist showed up. and said, "I want to try something. I’m going to help you sit up and stand up, while we keep the leg compression things on you".
I sat up and I kept breathing through the pain, and as I'm breathing through the pain they're fanning me with papers and they're dropping drops of water on my head from a wet wash cloth. They kept fanning me and I didn't pass out, the blood pressure was stable enough. The occupational therapist quickly said, "Let's go for a walk out of your room with a walker."
The pain on my shoulders was intense, torture is the word that comes to mind. I was close to passing out but I said, "I have to do this." We drifted out about 10 steps out of the room and then we drifted back and I sat down, exhausted. 20 steps total. It was a miracle!
After a few minutes rest, she said with encouraging kindness, "Let's go again." She guided me down the hallway, fanning me as I took baby steps to the nurse's station where they all said “Yay! You are doing it, keep going!”. She parked me in front of a set of stairs used for people in physical rehab. This shocked me, ME in front of physical rehab stairs?
I heard, "I need you to try the stairs." I was so scared, I was terrified. I looked at them and she repeated "Try the stairs." I went up four stairs, putting both feet on each step and then down. To me, this might as well have been climbing a mountain.
Nine days after my accident I took my first steps. Melanie, was there to see this and I was in shock, it was a happy shock. I looked at her and heard, "Great job, Rich. I'm really proud of you." It was a shocking start. I called my daughters to let them know and they couldn’t believe it. Twenty-four hours before I was blacking out when I’d stand.
HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL
I left the hospital almost two weeks after my crash and went to Melanie’s house. I still needed supervision and care. Physically getting out of bed was a painful chore. I wore button down shirts because my arms couldn’t reach above my shoulders. I have the neck brace on, 24/7. If I fell, it could be catastrophic for me.
I started my ‘house walks’. Light walking with a walker inside the house. Fifteen steps then I needed a rest. The pain and fatigue was intense. My body was still a long way from any sense of healing as I would know it. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.
One night my girlfriend cooked dinner for myself and her daughter, Tatum. We're sitting at the table and I have the neck brace on. I could barely sit, but it was a big thing for me to be able to sit at the table. We're sitting there and I had a typical glass bowl in front of me with rice and fish. I picked up the bowl and had to set it down. I wasn’t physically strong enough hold the bowl. This was another reminder of how injured my body was.
I asked her if she could put the food in the plastic container so I could hold it. It was really embarrassing to me. She didn't care. Tatum didn't care. Nobody cared. Feeling embarrassed and having no choice but to be embarrassed due to my physical ability, was a good lesson for me. It’s something we should all think about.
Father's Day was two weeks after my accident and surgery. I live in the beach town of Ventura California and I wanted to go to the beach area. Melanie videoed me as I walked 26 steps on the walkway without the walker; very, very cautiously. I wanted my daughters to see that their last image of me in bed in pain, unable to stand, was well behind us. Thankful for our good fortune.
A week later I transitioned to my apartment, and I was like a kid on ‘solo’ at camp spending the night alone. I had a million adjustments to figure out with my limited ability with my arms and my favorite neck brace still on 24/7. I still needed the walker as a safety precaution to avoid falling at all costs.
I live in a gated area, with walkways, no chance a passerby would bump into me and cause me to fall. I told myself that I will do light walking every single day. I asked the doctors if there was a limit to how much I could walk, they told me, "Walk as much as you want, but be careful. Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall and make sure that you're at least getting some rest.".
Dave and I talked every day since my accident and he said “Every day you get better, I get better.” Besides my own life expectations, I felt I also owed progress to Dave, even to this day.
When I walked up to this gate at my apartment complex, I could see the surfers and as a surfer, that was a massive joy for me. I’d walk about 100 yards, then need to rest. The steps were painful, and at times I thought I was part of the movie “Braveheart” getting tortured. BUT I WAS ALIVE, I WAS WALKING. Each day I’d try to go just a bit further than the day before. 100 yards, 200 yards, 300 yards etc. One of my neighbors put a sticker on my walker and it said, “Forever Stoked.” That was perfect for me.
I asked my girlfriend to walk with me outside the gate to the promenade walkway with me. I was out with the ‘regular’ people. I made it ½ mile with the walker and neck brace! Success in the smallest way.
With each step, I got more confident. I’d walk along the wall of the promenade pushing that walker, almost hugging the wall to avoid a bike, runner, etc. from accidentally knocking me over. I was the ‘wall hugger’ of the promenade. I remember the day I got up to a 5K (3.1 miles) and thought I won the Olympics. Then 4 miles, 5 miles, 6, 7,
I eventually walked eight miles with a broken neck, wearing a neck brace, pushing a walker. Eight miles!
Forever stoked!
I could have come up with 1,000 excuses, mostly legit, as to why I couldn’t go out for walks. I made the choice to go forward with life.
It’s time for a vacation you say? Of course. Six weeks after my accident.
Before my accident we had a big vacation planned to go to India and Bhutan. Obviously, that was canceled, but we needed to get away. My girlfriend and I went to Banff, Canada. It was a place we could drive around and see the lakes and mountains as I couldn’t hike or get off many paths. I still have the neck brace on, my ‘Forever Stoked’ walker in tow.
On vacation, it was a similar routine with the walking. At one point, we walked around this lake (Emerald Lake) with my walker, which looking back wasn't the smartest thing. The path around the lake turned from paved to dirt, to mud. I kept on going of course. I'm walking through mud and stuff like that, using my walker as if it were four trekking poles. Stepping over tree roots etc. Now I didn’t say I was smart, I said I kept walking- 3 miles total of off-road with my walker and neck brace.
While on vacation, I had a consult with the doctors and they told me it was time for the neck brace to come off. The latest x-rays supported this and they wanted to prevent further degeneration of my neck muscles. I took the neck brace off, and I was terrified. I was afraid my neck was going to break; that my head and neck were going to fall over, that nothing was going to work. I was traumatized from what I’ve been through and didn’t want to repeat the physical pain and trauma I’ve experienced up to this point.
Instead of relying on the neck brace to hold my head up, I needed my injured back, neck and shoulders to hold it up and the pain train started all over again. I'm back to ground zero. I can only walk a little bit and then I have to lay down. It felt like a small setback but it was progress (from neck brace to no neck brace). The next day I went two miles w/ the walker and was wiped out. I kept reminding myself it’s progress. Two miles without the neck brace is progress over eight miles with the neck brace.
I kept at it. Two miles; three miles; four miles. You get the idea.
We get back from vacation and I start physical therapy. I could barely move, I couldn't move my left arm above my shoulder, I couldn't turn my head. It really sucked and I was blank. I’m simply blank. I remember the first time I met the physical therapist, she said, "what were your activities before you had your accident?" I listed surfing, hiking, swimming, and other activities, and she said, "What are your goals for activities that you hope to gain back when you complete physical therapy?" I was wasn't prepared for the question, I paused, and I said, "It's a blank canvas. I'm just thankful to be alive and I'm very thankful I can walk, so whatever I end up with, I'm good with. Each week I was asked and finally said “swimming and hiking”. Mentally that upped my game.
I had many restrictions, but walking wasn’t one of them. It was time to ditch the walker, for another set-back progression point. Psychologically, it felt really safe having that walker, but it was an excuse and it was now holding me back. I’m now walking without a neck brace and without a walker. The doctors kept telling me, "Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall."
And it all started again, from scratch. Half mile, two miles, three miles etc. and the start of new pain train. You know the drill.
Each walk brought different levels of pain, I just dealt with it. I’m still in rebuild and heal mode for my back and neck. My posture was slowly getting better, as was my walking and most importantly, my self-confidence.
I was talking to my neighbor Pat, who started walking and eating better to gain back her fitness because of her life ‘blur’. She said, "It just happened, life happened and wanted to be fit again."
I said, "Hey, Pat, I'm starting to walk in the mornings, do you want to walk together?" We agreed on three miles and started the next day at 5:30am. I quickly realized how slow I was!! She walked fast! Holy smokes she’s cruising. I could barely keep up, it felt great to get pushed. Our 5:30am routine of three miles took off from there. We started trying to beat our previous day’s time. It became a game.
Some days I would add some more distance. Saturdays, I simply became a walking fool. The doctor said there was no limit to how much I could walk, so I became the Forrest Gump of walking.
I’m still in lots of physical therapy at the clinic and at home. We’re working to get my arms up above my head, posture, some strength, we're starting to do some different exercises where I could slightly turn my head.
The walking continued and gave me confidence as well as think time. Walking was a time to process everything that happened and to think about what life will eventually be like. Still to this day, I don’t really know what life will be like.
While I walked, I didn’t listen to music or books. I just listened to life. That's what I did, I listened to life, I listened to how I felt.
There were times where I'd walk where it was very emotional. I was walking, I was getting ‘normal’. At one point I ventured down to the sand and saw the most amazing sight in the world, I looked back and saw my footprints. My footprints were really there, I immediately reflected on how I beat the odds and could really see my footprints. It was real and I was quickly overcome with emotions….so thankful.
I couldn't believe A, I was walking, B, all I could do was walk, C, I couldn't believe my life had been slammed or changed so much. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten miles…walk, walk, walk.
I decided I'm going to sign up and attempt walking a half marathon, 13.1 miles. I figured if I signed up it would make me stronger, so I did. “Why not?" I had to get on with the life I wanted.
It came time for the half marathon, people were very encouraging that I was doing it and equally surprised. The day before the half, I went to packet pickup, where you get your ‘race’ number. I got my race number and stared at it. This is really about to happen. It’s called a race number, but for me, it was a life reset number.
I had to rebuild my entire back and neck, now full of the titanium rods and 16 screws; and here I was carrying a race number just four and a half months from my accident. Four and a half months.
Race day was here. I went to the very back of the line and past everybody, and gathered my thoughts. Nervous was an understatement, I was also confused a bit as I tried to process where I was.
Four and a half months from my crash and surgery I’m about to start a half marathon.
As I started walking, you would have thought my dog had just died. The first 200 yards I was basically a bumbling mess of emotions: joy, tears, disbelief, shock, all of it. I went from “what happened”, with enough metal in my neck to shock most X-ray techs, to walking with a race number on.
Throughout the walk, I reflected on what I'd been through, from the first 20 steps in the hospital to now. I clicked mile after mile after mile, I was actually doing this!
As I approached mile 13 I heard the crowd at the finish line around the corner. A flood of emotion hit me, I was startled and started to feel like my dog had died again. I knew what was around the corner. I knew it was my friends, my loved ones waiting for me. I was actually afraid on how to proceed, almost wanting to avoid it and to be honest I almost ducked into a side street and walked away, strange, but I continued forward toward the finish.
As I approached the corner toward the finish, I turned and saw none other than, Delaware Dave. The guy who saved me on the mountain. He was smiling big, I talked with him for a moment and gave him a hug and I just said, "Thanks, Dave." This was all coming full circle.
As I walked the final hundred yards, I was overwhelmed and in shock, a good shock. I could hear and see friends calling my name. As I kept walking, it felt really weird and alive.
The ‘future’ me, was now beginning to form right here at this moment.
Twenty-five feet from the finish line, on the right, there's my girlfriend, Melanie. She has seen every single step of progress from the minute she arrived at the trauma unit to now.
I gave her a big hug and as I started to talk my voice fell to pieces as I muttered out, "I really did it," through the tears. I said, "Let me get this finished,” and I walked toward the finish.
A little over four and a half months, from the time my body hit the ground on that beautiful mountain to where it couldn't really move, bones mashing my spinal cord, I now just walked 13.1 miles across a finish line and got handed a finishers medal. I’ve done well over a hundred races in my life, this was by far, the most meaningful.
We should all ask, "Are we where we want to be?". I had to own it my circumstance. I definitely had a lot of help with friends along the way, with the medical staff along the way, in the end, I had to own my circumstance and certainly had to own my outcome.
I would ask you this, if I can walk eight miles with a broken neck, wearing a neck brace, pushing a walker, what is really keeping you from moving and getting out there and simply going for a walk? or going for a jog or whatever it is you want to work on in life, what's preventing you from working on that?
What’s your neck brace and walker? What’s keeping you from going onto your goals to reset something in your life. You can still move forward with whatever you want…it’s in all of us.
One thing that helped me was having goals. Simple goals, from managing my tray in the hospital room to walking 100 yards to taking a shower to making sure I did my daily PT. I did this every day. I used to call them physical therapy exercises, but mentally now, I call them my daily exercises. That's two hours a day of home exercises, on top of the walking.
I've been given gifts with my accident and I'll appreciate the gifts every minute of every day. That gift is I am still alive, the gift is I can walk and the biggest gift is knowing that people genuinely express their care and love for you-it’s all out in the open when something like this happens.
I really encourage everybody to go out and restart what you know you want to restart. It doesn't matter why you are where you are today. Today it doesn’t matter I was in a hospital unable to stand for 9 days, just go forward with the restart.
This is a big restart of my life to have the life I want. I never knew what my real outcome would be and in many aspects I still don't know. I still have a long way to go, but I’d say I’m out of the starting blocks.
I have a dry erase board at home where I track my exercises. Along the edge, I wrote two things. One says, ”Adventure life,” and the other says “Travel life,” two things I’ll gain back, albeit with adjustments.
I know I’ll get there by doing two things: Putting the excuses in the trash and simply doing the work.
//end//