IF YOU’VE BEEN FOLLOWING my musings, you’ll know I’m very much into downhill mountain biking. Getting out into the sticks, and smashing some ludicrous speeds down mountains is possibly the best thing I’ve ever experienced.
That said, back in 2016, I suffered a very nasty crash. I was on a bike holiday in Scotland, UK, bombing downhill, doing about 20–25mph on a wet, dedicated, slate-covered, single-track trail. I’d sent my friends down ahead of me, as I was the more confident rider, and wanted to “enjoy the moment.” Unfortunately, I hit a jump wrong, went over the handlebars, and slid sideways straight into the loose slate, which managed to shred its way through my compression shirt, internally tearing my tricep in half, and lacerating my arm to the point where…
