Back in the Saddle; A Journey of Healing

June 29, 2016 by Scott "Q" Marcus Leave a Comment

It’s been nearly five years since I was almost killed.

Specifically, it was October 25, 2011 at 9:46 AM.

That Tuesday morning was brilliantly sunny.

There was a delicate bite to the crisp, clear morning air as I pedaled my bicycle north on E Street to a 10 AM yoga class. After waiting for a green light on the corner of Fifth, I slowly pedaled into the intersection, immediately noticing a silver Honda was turning left into me, leaving no escape. Since the driver faced directly into the sun, she didn’t see me and accelerated, causing me to fly from my bike onto her windshield, shattering it with the force of my impact. Although I was conscious, I don’t remember details well; they were images scrambled like a video of a riot. However I clearly recall being tossed about like a leaf in a tornado; frenziedly trying to grab on to anything to hold me in place. Seconds later I slammed head first in the roadway 15 feet from impact.

EMTs helping me while lying in the street

Strangers flooded the intersection from every direction, protecting me from traffic as I lay, in shock, on my back. Cell phones clicked to life; people were shouting, running to my aid; someone grabbed my helmeted head from behind and said he would stay with me until the ambulance arrived, insisting I not move.

I could wiggle my toes and fingers, alleviating a minor level of anxiety, especially since I could see my pants were shredded and blood was flowing freely from my left leg. All I could do was let go and wait.

Five hours later, the emergency room doctor said to me, “You’re either made of steel or someone is watching out for you because men your age don’t take a hit like that and walk out of here. Go home.”

I am fortunate beyond words. My bike? Not so much.

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Time to Take Off the Training Wheels

August 7, 2014 by Featured Author

by Julie Weir

From the minute you put your child onto their first bike you know there will come a time when the training wheels will have to come off.

You know this, yet you don’t realize how quickly that day will sneak up on you.

Suddenly, last week, this day was upon us. We decided that we would take the training wheels off my daughters bike and my son’s bike (4.5 years old, came out of the womb able to do somersaults, self-proclaimed king of the world) at the same time. “Why go through this twice?”, was the thought.

As we loaded the bikes in the van to drive to the nearest bike trail (no way were our kids going learn to ride on the Indy-500 in front of our house) I could feel my stomach cramping. They were going to fall, whine, cry, sniffle, whine some more, and then bleed. My daughter was likely never going to get on a bike again. I thought about hiding the bikes and detouring to an ice cream store in a wildly evasive manoeuvrings.

I suddenly realized I was holding my breath and starting to squirm.

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My Story of Getting Hit by a Car While Crossing the Highway

October 27, 2011 by Scott "Q" Marcus

Tuesday was horrible.

I was going to ride my bike to my appointments. The bright sunny clear morning sky cooperated as I headed north on E Street. Upon reaching the intersection of Highway 101, I waited for a green light.

Once it changed, a car heading in the opposite direction proceeded into the intersection, as did I. Yet, instead of going straight, the driver turned on to the highway and directly at me. Unfortunately, the laws of physics say only one object can occupy a space at a time; so when a 2,600-pound car and a 180-pound bicyclist collide at the same point in time, one of them will be moved. Of course, that was me — and in a rather forceful manner.

Upon the horrifying realization that there was no way to avoid being hit, time slowed down.

As I saw the automobile come into contact with me, I thought, “My life is about to change.” The only unknown was “How much?” As the front bumper impacted my leg, I sent up a quick prayer, “please let this be minor, and if not — please let it be quick.”

My bike fell under the car as I rolled on to its hood, smashing into the windshield. I vaguely recall the vehicle continuing to move forward with me on its hood, whimpering. What I later discovered was that I impacted the windshield with enough force to destroy it and was subsequently hurled 20 feet down the road. I remember crashing headfirst on the asphalt, shattering my bike helmet.

What happened next was nothing short of amazing.

As if guided by an invisible director, people descended on the scene from every bearing. Although conscious, I was — needless to say — confused. I couldn’t tell in which direction I was facing, nor from where the voices came, but I could discern individuals coordinating to direct traffic away from me. I heard cell phones click to life from those calling emergency services. Strangers ran to assist me, and one gentleman — an angel as far as I’m concerned — took my head in his hands to hold me still to prevent further injury, his calm reassuring voice a comfort unlike anything I can remember. With my head cradled in his grip, I knew I could “let go.” Even though there was no major pain, I was moaning, more out of fear. I wanted to sit up to survey what damage had been done to me but this Godsend of a man insisted I be still and he held me firm. He assured me help was coming and he would take care of me until then. The EMTs arrived within seconds, as did the fire department, and police. I felt embarrassed by all the commotion I was causing, and by blocking a major highway, but no one seemed bothered. Everyone was focused on helping me. [Read more…]