Of Crashes, Injuries, and Miracles

“A miracle is a shift in perspective” 

– quoted by Gabby Bernstein from A Course in Miracles

The Crash

I woke up on the sidewalk of Daang Hari Road with my friends and a crowd of bikers hovering over me. What happened? Where was I? In my mind, I had been pleasantly biking along. Last I remember was thinking we were definitely going to reach our 100k target because we all felt strong and fresh at around 57k.

My friends told me I had crashed. The look of worry on their faces was indescribable. They said they heard me scream and, within a few seconds, I keeled over to my right side, slammed my head, elbow, and legs on the ground, and skidded with my bike for a few meters on the rough concrete. They said I lay still on the middle of the road for a long 2 minutes. By then, a crowd of bikers stopped and blocked the road from oncoming vehicles for us. I was breathing, then I began to mumble words. I even managed to give my cellphone password so they could call my driver to fetch us. My friends knew I was alive, but they worried about the damage done on my body.

I woke up dazed, confused, and clueless. I could not remember anything from the accident. I tried to remember the names of my kids, Anton & Nia, and when I said their names I heaved a sigh of relief that I didn’t suffer from amnesia. I asked my friends what happened and they explained it in detail. At that time, I thought I had been conversing normally with them. Later that afternoon, they admitted that they feared for me because I had asked them the same question and they answered in full detail five times over.

I was rushed to the Emergency Room of Asian Hospital. I had a CT scan, xrays, and treatment of my wounds. I was cleared from any brain trauma and broken bones. I went home with five huge wounds on my right arm and legs (aka tocino as the bikers like to call it), a bump on the right side of my head, neckpain, a cracked helmet, and a scraped handlebar on the bike as souvenirs. Still, I felt blessed to be alive. It could have been a lot worse and I was lucky.

– In the ER of Asian –


– My cracked Specialized helmet kept me safe. Thanks to Dan’s Warehouse for offering to replace it upon hearing of my accident –

The Injury

The accident put things into perspective for me. You see, for the past two months now, since the day after London Marathon last April 21, I’ve been suffering from Post-Tibial Tendonitis. Post-Tib is an injury on the inner ankle often caused by overuse. Flat footed runners, such as myself, are more susceptible to this.

For the past months, I’ve barely been able to run. With Tri United 2 and Ironman Cebu 70.3, I’ve been worried, frustrated, sad, and angry. Even if there weren’t any upcoming races, I still would’ve felt the same way because, well, you know me, I just need my running.

For the most part though, I’ve been trying to be optimistic about the injury. I got therapy done at Peak Form regularly. I had my foot taped with Rocktape.  I focused more on what I could do such as swim and bike rather than what I could not do. And, I even refused to rant about it on this blog thinking it would go away if I didn’t acknowledge it. (Yeah right, LOL!)

It’s NOT The End

So, I haven’t been running because of the injury. I can’t swim because of the accident. I’m skipping Tri United 2 this weekend. And, Ironman Cebu 70.3? Hmmm that’s up in the air right now.

It sucks. Yes, it really does.

Usually, I’ll throw a tantrum about how 6 months of training has gone down the drain, how unfair life is, and proceed to drown in my sorrows with a bottle of Nutella. But, for some reason, I don’t feel like doing that at all. I’m disappointed, but I’m not devastated.

Like I said, the accident put things into perspective for me. In the blink of an eye, without warning, my life could’ve ended, yet I came out with wounds that will heal in time. To complain about an accident, an injury, or a missed race at this point seems silly or, worse, ungrateful. It’s a miracle I’m alive.

I came home that morning of the accident and kissed my kids on their cheeks as they ate breakfast. I whispered my kids names to myself again, Anton and Nia, and scooped a spoonful of Nutella into my mouth. Life is good.