Hello Again From Alicia's Recovery World

Hey all, I’m writing again to check in and give an update on how the injury recovery is going these days. I’ve now passed the nine-month mark since I crashed my bike and hit my head. Last time I wrote, I had just returned to Bellingham after the first months of being hospitalized then working with an intensive outpatient clinic.

Since then, I’ve settled the tiniest bit into my old life again, traveled to my old home state of Montana then met my coworkers at Sea Otter, spent a month working with another brain rehab clinic, returned home to Bellingham, then spending two weeks at paragliding races, not competing but there to learn and once again be part of that community I love so much. My recovery process is both horrible and amazing.


There’s more loss here than I can really explain, and it's the type of situation I really can't think about too much because I don't want to crumble any more than I already have. Losing most of my ability to mountain bike, for one thing, doesn’t feel great.

I’m still riding most days, but my balance and coordination and ability to create specific physical responses to visual information are much worse than they used to be. I’m hugely thankful to still have most of what mountain biking has given me: the experience of working at something and seeing the progress, friendship and a venue where consistently being at our limits makes us all better at being friends with some nice forced vulnerability, permission to play around and just have fun, a job, and so much more.

But there's also having to constantly re-remember that I can’t keep trying to make plans to ride gnarly trails with my fast friends, I can’t assume that Whistler Bike Park will be fun in the years to come. Riding has still been absolutely delightful – it’s a great chance to still see my patient friends, and I make quick progress being an ultra-beginner compared to my last few years of feeling plateaued skillwise.

There are other pieces lost, too, of course. I used to have a pretty good memory and don’t anymore. My peripheral vision is much worse than it used to be, and losing hearing in one ear means I can’t sense sound direction anymore. My right pinky was stuck at 90 degrees, though I just had surgery for that and the surgeon says it may or may not fix it. And then there are the less concrete pieces, like the loss of my trust in myself, the constant second-guessing of almost any thought or experience. There’s the pre-limiting of myself, making assumptions about what I might or might not be able to do that then become the maximum of what I try. There’s viewing my life as a ‘before’ and ‘after’ and wishing I could have maybe even a minute that isn’t tinted through the lens of being the brain-damaged girl. Having a sense of time again would be nice. Since there's a blank spot between last September and November, I don't think my brain has learned to believe in the continuity of time again, so the fact that we're about to head to Crankworx is pretty weird.



Also, this has been a time of intense appreciation for the people and opportunities still in my life. First of all, at least one parent and often both were at the hospitals with me for the hospitalization period, and my brother visited too. Beyond my family, my friends showed up more than I could ever imagine. Friends visited me in the hospitals, even when I was several states away from almost everyone in my life. The letters sent to me will be saved as long as I live.

My friend Chelsea started a GoFundMe for me, which has now given me opportunities I’d never expected. I got a sweet new bike – one of the favorites I’ve reviewed ever – as a ‘get well’ gift from a rad bike company. None of that makes the injury feel remotely worthwhile (as if my opinion about its worthwhile-ness matters at all anyway), but I’ll take whatever silver linings I can find. People said the funeral-type praise, maybe in some part thinking (correctly at that point) that I was gone. Everyone – be nice to your friends and say the scary vulnerable things when they’re still alive and can hear you!


Recently, I spent two weeks at two consecutive paragliding races. I decided not to compete in the name of caution and small steps back into the sport, but I still had constant moments of feeling giddy, reeling with the delight at how lucky I felt to be there and how good it felt to still be part of that community. Sometimes, I think the feeling of loss in my life these days shifts me to expecting to lose every time and makes me surprised now when something actually works out the way I want it to, when I can show up to a place I used to feel at-home and still feel like I belong. (Though frankly I think I’m due for a win pretty soon.)

One of the latest and very cool developments in my life recently is starting to work for Pinkbike again. I’m just working a light part-time, but it’s been great even to just have daily calls with my coworkers and add a bit of routine back to my life. I’ve been able to tie up a few loose ends that were left after I crashed, and Pinkbike has been seriously awesome, letting me take my sweet time testing the waters and relearning how all of this works. It’s nice to feel like part of something again.


My day-to-day life is still not exactly thrilling, but there's enough joy to keep me going. That joy might be an equal and opposite reaction to a lot of what I've been feeling lately, but I'll take what I can get. I just had hand surgery, and early next week I'm heading to Crankworx Whistler to spend a little more time once again being part of the bike world. I'll keep trying to ease back into my Pinkbike life, writing the articles that feel relevant in the moment, digging into my unfortunately new niche of helmets and brain injuries and working on a few other projects. Nothing time-sensitive since unfortunately I don't get anything done as efficiently as I used to, but I'll still be trying to find my new place here. I'll keep trying to progress back into mountain biking, at least after the period of having my hand in a cast, and same with paragliding. I'll keep leaning into what I am able to do, focusing on that and the ways that stays rewarding rather than fixating on what I've lost.

There are a few exciting developments too: I recently got a packraft, something I've wanted for years but haven't acted on. I made a new friend who had a similar brain injury to mine, and packrafting has been therapeutic enough for him that I was convinced. We've already hiked into a mountain lake together and paddled around. Also, part of what appeals to me about a packraft is that it'll fit into my paragliding setup, so I can fly upriver and paddle back to where I'd started. I've carried it before on a cross country flight, but I have yet to actually line up landing near water to complete that adventure. I keep trying to develop new ways to get outside in ways I can be excited about, and I love finding one that feels creative and rewarding but isn't especially technically complicated. There are lots of new directions for me to explore.

In slightly less exciting news, I recently got myself a Rubik's Cube and have become obsessive about solving it over and over. A friend (one who has stepped up in ways so far beyond what I could have hoped for) wrote me a page of cube solving notes, too, though now I've thankfully learned enough to not need the cheat sheet anymore.


Thank you to everyone who has reached out, shown care, shown up, stayed my friend even though I can't ride a bike fast anymore, listened to my many fears and frustrations, allowed me to take the time I need coming back, trusted me, encouraged me, and helped celebrate the small wins. I can hardly imagine doing this without you, and I'm glad I don't have to.

Things are really not my favorite right now, but I'm sincerely looking forward to the future and am curious about how all of this will feel later. That openness to what might happen next feels like exactly what is going to help me move through this, and for that I'm beyond thankful. I'll keep checking in from time to time for a while, and I hope you all can take care of yourselves and chase some dreams in the near future. Until then, take care, be kind, and have fun!

Love,

Alicia