McDowell Mountain Regional Park Mountain Biking + Stitches

The new year has brought some extremely cold weather to the Midwest (and really all of the US).  So cold, that I haven’t exercised outside once this year.  Jason and I finally decided we’d had enough and booked a long weekend in Phoenix, AZ.  We were greeted with mid 60s and 70s during our stay, for which we took full advantage by mountain biking, orienteering and hiking as much as possible.  We officially competed in a Greater Phoenix Area Orienteering urban score-o and I’ll write a separate post on that soon.  For this post, I want to focus on our adventure both outdoors mountain biking and indoors getting stitches!

We rented Trek Superflys from Arizona Outback Adventures (I definitely recommend them!

Jason stopping for a quick photo a
few minutes in our our ride.

 Great and knowledgeable staff!) and headed towards the McDowell Mountain Regional Park.  The park features over 40 miles of mountain biking trails.  We clipped in around 11 a.m. with mid 60s and slight cloud cover.  We wore hydration packs and stuck in a Kind bar and extra piece of gum for our journey.  We decided to start out on the main trail, the Pemberton Trail and see where it led us.

The terrain was certainly dramatically different than a typical Iowa trail.  Miles of open desert stretched out on all sides.  To the south were several hills a part of the McDowell range.  The ground alternated from tan dessert gravel to green cactus.  At times, the cactus seemed to close in on the trail, ready to grab your heel if you didn’t hold a steady line.  At others, the sand seemed to stretch to the horizon.  The trail itself was mostly sandy hardpack with the occasional rock pile to traverse.  It came in clusters but mostly lasted a moment before the scenery reset and you felt like you had just been in this spot before.

The distance was deceiving.  When I focused on the trail directly in front of me, I felt like we weren’t getting anywhere very quickly.  When we stopped and scanned the horizon, it appeared as though we had traveled miles and miles.  The sun jutted in and out of view and a light breeze kept us comfortable.  As we settled into a comfortable, yet challenging speed, I inhaled in as much fresh air as could possibly fill my lungs.  I let every muscle and fiber soak it in.  It was invigorating.

This was a few minutes into our ride,
before the crash. 

There was not much elevation change on the trail.  The occasional short, sharp ascent increased my heart rate, but within moments of returning to the relatively flat, smooth trail, I was moving full speed ahead.  Every now and then I’d slow up to pass by another biker or hiker.  Lots of people were out on the trail, remotely situated outside of a small town, seeming to step away from the hustle of life and enjoying a moment for themselves.  Everyone was super friendly.  I’ll let you in on a secret if you haven’t spent time in a true rural or remote setting, doing something active for yourself: when you’re exposed to that much fresh air, away from the duties of household and job, giving yourself the gift of activity, you can’t help but be in a great mood.  

After letting the sun and wind envelope me like a soft blanket for about 30 minutes on the Pemberton Trail, we took one of the off-shots onto the Coachwhip Trail.  Pemberton is the main route and circles the entire park.  However, many smaller trails spin off of the Pemberton, taking you on a new journey through the park.  Coachwhip was much narrower, more similar to true single track we think of in the Midwest.  It had a few more rocky sections but mostly emulated the terrain we had been on.

There were a few more technical spots and as I reached a descent, I was lost in the moment when I heard a clacking come from the bike.  There’s the occasional moan and squeak from a mountain bike but for some reason it consumed my full attention at that moment.  I considered stopping, deciding suddenly that maybe I should check it out.  All thought stopped there.  It resumed as I was falling to the ground, realizing I was still clipped in on both sides.  I still struggle with split-second unclipping and that moment was no exception.  As I landed on the side of the trail, which sloped downwards, I slid down maybe two feet.  I was sliding backwards, head first, and there was enough momentum that my bike came rushing towards me.  The handlebar slammed into my chin.  

My lip immediately went numb and my teeth ached.  I also promptly started crying.  I scraped up my

My chin post crash.

knee and landed on a rock, causing a large bruise on my hind cheek.  However, neither of those caused me to break down into a five year old, “you just told me I couldn’t have that toy” screeching.  I was scared that I had damaged my teeth.  I laid there for what seemed like eternity but probably only really lasted two or three seconds.  I hurt.  Some of that was physical, but my ego was bruised pretty badly too.

My left leg was on the outside but my foot was still clipped in and I couldn’t stand up.  I was annoyed and started thrashing my foot back and forth.  I felt like a three year old throwing a temper tantrum.  That is until I heard a rustle in the tree.

I am so very thankful to report that I did not fall into a cactus.  The full magnitude of that realization didn’t hit me until well after I was on the bike again.  I honestly prefer not to imagine how the day would have played out if I had.  I did fall though near a small tree and while the rustle was likely a bird or a squirrel, my mind had one immediate image populate my entire vision – snake.  I believe, if I’m recalling it accurately, I was standing in a full upright position with the bike in about two seconds.  I looked around, not seeing any creatures and resumed crying noisily.

When Jason and I ride, he’s typically faster and rides at his own pace.  He stops every now and then and waits until I come into view before proceeding.  He had already moved out of view, as the trail started turning back, connecting first to the Dixie before rejoining the Pemberton.  I knew I needed to start moving forward, so I started walking my bike down the descent.  I was too shaken up to start riding, mostly waiting for confirmation of what happened to my teeth.  Jason came flying up the corner and as we met in the middle, he jumped off the bike and started running towards me.  I sat the bike down, folded down my lip and asked “Are my teeth okay?  Are they broken?”  He studied them closely, carefully setting his finger on the top and pushing slightly to see if they’d wiggle.  He looked at me, almost pale, and said “I think they’re fine babe.”  The crying instantly subsided and turned into a quiet whimper.  My teeth were still there, standing in the same position as before the crash.  I knew then I’d be fine.  By the way, I asked Jason when he noticed I was no longer behind him.  He said he could hear me crying.  I guess the screeching was at a much higher volume than I had realized :)

Certainly the scraped knee and bruised butt hurt.  It was painful as I saw my knee had swelled to the size of a small melon and blood pooled around the main scratch.  After confirming my teeth were in order, I asked about my chin.  I knew it was bleeding and torn up in some way.  The blood had slowly dripped down and I wiped away small drops with my black biking gloves.  It didn’t seem to be gushing; again, a good sign that the damage would be limited to a few band aids.  Jason tried wiping some of the blood, examined it closely with critical eye and said it looked okay.   A few deep breaths later, I hopped back on my mountain bike and we took off for at least another two hours to finish out the Pemberton Trail.

Post crash with 2 stitches.

Timidly, I clipped in one foot and eventually thought it safe enough to clip in the second.  My pace was steady but not blazing.  I knew falling a second time wouldn’t help the situation, so I focused first on steady movement, which was kind of tough since I was still slightly shaking.  My confidence grew with each mile we tackled.  We had been climbing up to the high point in the first half of our ride.  Now we were gradually descending, which made for a way faster pace and quick, sharp reaction on the bar.  I let myself fly freely.  The faster you move, the more enclosed sounds become.  The only sound I heard was the crunch of the sand under my front tire.  It sounded like someone was dumping milk into a large bowl of Rice Krispies.  The crinkling continued through the finish, back to where our journey first started.

Along the way, we continued to run into others enjoying the trail.  I was a little shocked and disheartened to see a few people riding without helmets.  I wanted to scream, "Hey you, look at my chin!  I got that from sliding backwards, head first after a crash.  Imagine what could have happened if I wasn't wearing a helmet!"  So let this serve as my public service announcement: please, before you sit down on the saddle, make sure your helmet is securely on your head first.

We had packed sandwiches for a mid-afternoon lunch.  The trailhead had a covered shelter, so we spread out our meal and chatted with excitement about the trail. It was scenic and fun.  It was impressive to see the work done to provide this opportunity to bikers and hikers.  It was eventful, which is the kind way of saying I just about ruined my own day with such a dumb, slow fall.  I’ve fallen many times on my mountain bike and have been very fortunate to walk away with only a few scrapes and bruises.  I knew that despite the injury to my chin, I had much to be thankful for, even after the fall.

A view of the start and finish of our
McDowell Mountain Regional Park
mountain biking adventure!

After we finished our meal, I went to the bathroom to wash off my chin.  I discovered that there was a small indentation, which seemed odd.  I believe that possibly a screw on the stem hit my chin, but I’m not entirely sure.  I checked the inside of my mouth and discovered I had a small hole inside as well.  While they weren’t in the same line, I panicked thinking maybe I had a cut straight through my lip.  I had taken a drink and no water had seeped out the front.  Which ironically is the first question the doctor asked me when he saw the hole inside my mouth as well.  

We decided visiting urgent care seemed a must, in order to try and minimize scaring on my chin.  The cut was small, the stitches even smaller.  It wasn’t a dramatic injury by any means, but enough to need the aid of a stitch for quicker healing.  The adrenaline rush of the incident and the stitches took all of my energy.  I’d had enough for one day, but not before relaying the story to the bike rental team and my mom.  It’s not really that great of a story; we made up stories on the car ride back about fights and flipping over handle bars but really, it just is what it is.

Reflecting back, and knowing that I was fortunate to have had such mild injuries, I am glad a bruised ego didn’t get in the way of finishing the adventure I had set out to do.  I was back on the bike less than a few minutes after falling.  I rode for a couple more hours.  I didn’t stop, give up or let a small setback give me an excuse to quit.  It’s these moments that teach me I have strength that I didn’t believe I had.  It reminds me when I (figuratively) fall in other parts of life that I have the strength to move forward.  I forget that, so I’m thankful for the gentle reminder!

If you ever make it out to the Phoenix area, schedule time to hike or bike at the McDowell Mountain Regional Park – it’s awesome!

Miss FitGab