The Horny Cat 69 '23: One and Done

I hate that I'm editing this so late, but huge props to the OG Mountain Cat 100 for inspiring this whole entire thing.  I will be back next June.  I still probably won't officially finish tho.

I was a hot ball of stressed out shit all last week.  Fortunately, I only eat when I'm bored, and stress eating isn't my thing, so I dropped a few pounds.  I was stalking the weather forecasts on three different apps and two local news stations worried about possibly having to move The Horny Cat 69 to the rain date... which was going to cause a lot of problems... to include two more weeks of anxiety.

But I didn't pull the plug, and when I sprung outta bed on Saturday morning, I immediately looked outside.  The ground was bone dry.  Pull out my phone... and all those big chances of a rain-out had pretty much vanished.  I could not have been happier, despite the luscious hangover I had because Josh the Wonderboy swung into town Friday night... and we had access to a fridge full of beer.

After some mucking about the house, I drove over to the start in my Honda Fit of Rage so I could transport a change of clothes for folks that wouldn't wanna hang out at the party in their stinkies when they finished at my house...

And of course the parking lot is jam packed with cars from some running thing that I guess happens every week that I didn't know about.  Oops.  Sorry, Horny Catters.

People eventually started figuring out their own solutions to the parking issues.  I got "my" people into their positions, and went down and pre-rode the roll out from the start to the first trail just so I knew exactly what I was doing.  I came down the bootleg trail connection into the parking lot and almost ate shit in a rut.  Better remember that...

Riding the geared bike because Bill Nye and I are gonna do a s-l-o-w sweep on the first eight or so miles of trail to keep people going the right way... if only for a bit.

Yell at everyone, thank everyone, last minute instructions, and then I roll out with all the riders slowly making their way to their bikes.  Up the hill, looking over my shoulder, it looks like I got everyone in tow and should be able to get them into the first trail unscathed.  Well, them anyways.

I hit the same stupid little trail into the parking lot and took the same stupid line, except this time it took my bike out from under me.  I slid down the trail into the parking lot on my left side, and Ryan's body came flying over my head.  I jumped up, did a 1/2 second assessment of my body and bike, and led the riders the final hundred or so feet to the Nintendo Loop.

Then I finally did a full damage report.  Urp.  

I looked up at everyone around and said, "I'm gonna need to go to an urgent care."

Puzzled looks went to looks of horror when their gazes got to my knee.

Not trying to be a tough guy, but I've been mountain biking since the late '80s, and somehow I'd never needed stiches.  Sure, I've experienced plenty of lacerations that could use some sewing up, but I don't  really care about scars and whatnot.  My legs and elbows are such a hot mess.

But this... it's gonna need some attention.  I'm not sure, but I think that's my patella looking back at me.

So Nathan volunteered to drop me at the nearest urgent care.  After a short wait, I got plenty of Lidocaine and a thorough rinsing and...

"I don't like what I'm seeing.  You could have fractured your patella, chipped it or ruptured your joint capsule.  You need to get to an ER where they can get some X-rays and start some IV antibiotics."

"Do I have time to run home first, change clothes, grab some headphones, and a phone charger?"

"Sure.  Do you want something for the pain?"

"I'm not in pain.  Haven't really felt any since it happened.  I'm just pissed."

"You're not in pain?"

*puzzled look*

So get back to my house, change, and gear up for what I know is going to be an eternity in the ER.

Sit here, go sit there, stick an IV in my arm that's not hooked to anything just in case.  X-rays, go sit here again.  Try to telephonically manage my friends who have taken over assorted party duties. Multiple medical people take a peep inside my knee mushing my meat around and taking pictures.

"Are you in pain?"

"No." 

*puzzled*

This conversation is had so many times that I had to ask, "If I'm not feeling pain, is there something wrong with me?"

"Not necessarily."

So after numerous PAs, doctors, nurses and an ortho all had a chance to play puppet mouth with the hole in my leg, it really got good.

To find out if your joint capsule is leaking, they have a really neat way to find out.  They stick a giant needle in behind your kneecap, like way up in there, and then they inject up to 250ml of fluid.  If it starts leaking out, you've got a problem that needs fixed.  If it doesn't leak, you have another problem. 

"Where's all the fluid going to go in my body?"

"Oh, we just syringe it all back out."

And that was when I really got to feel "pain."

In the end, I got four internal stitches on my fascia and I think nine on the outside.  And joy of joy, I get to wear a demobilizer (a foam sleeping pad with sticks that is Velcro'ed in place) on my leg so I don't bend my knee for at least a week.  Honestly, the doc wanted to stitch another cut just below this one, and I said no thank you.

After that, everything was peachy.  I have a great group of friends who got the party rolling and were welcoming back the riders as they came in.  June and Joy scooped me from the ER with pizza in hand, and dropped me right at my house.  Everyone seemed to be having a great time regaling each other with tales from their days.  Large amounts of HandUp gear was handed out in the most unorganized manner, and Stone beers were pounded long into the night.  Thanks to HandUp and Stone Brewing and a few others who kicked in extra doll hairs, I'm going to (eventually) have a bunch of money to donate to the Tarheel Trailblazers.

Now whatever pictures in whatever order followed by the really gory one.

I only have mebbe fifteen beers and zero pizza left.  

Good job, fellers.

The show was pretty good.

Nick crashed the party.

RJabroni taking notes for the 2024 Triple Dip.

Dunno.

The Wonderboy wondering why he missed the start, rode all over south Charlotte not on the course, and puked on his bike.

It was a double feature at the hose.

Carl, the only guy who brought his own number plate.

Lost his job, got a new better job, now has beer too.

Another dunno.

It got pretty late and the hangers on retired to the house to reminisce.

That plate.

The only blood I saw that wasn't mine.

Burke looking to see if he took any of my glorious KOMs on the golf course (I'm just guessing here).

Lee got tons of photos out there on the course, so click on over and live vicariously.

Trying to come up with some kind of way to get a broken but not beaten fifty four year old man a half mile down the road for karaoke at Lucky Lou's.

And finally...

I'm still having a hard time looking at my patella, but I did get a fair dose of perspective at the ER.  While I was waiting in one chair or another, I heard an announcement that a pediatric trauma was inbound.  At one point, I was sitting next to someone who looked like he'd been thrown out of a moving car.  So all in all, sitting there with a hole in my knee and only minor discomfort mostly consumed with thoughts about what to do about work, being off the bike for what will be for me a record amount of time, and how I'm missing the party at my house and...

My life is good.  I'll be back out on the bike in no time, and a lot of people had a great day yesterday (or they were too ashamed or kind to bitch about the experience to the guy with a hole in his knee).. so there's that.  I'm happy.

I will rebald.

And what do you know about that?

We (they) did it.