Harder To Kill

I’m not exactly sure how I want to start this blog, but here goes…

Many of us have heard the old CrossFit saying, “Being fit makes you harder to kill.” It sounds badass, but I don’t think people stop to think about what that actually means. About a week ago, I had a pretty gnarly scare, and I’m incredibly grateful that I’m here to write about it.

I was on vacation visiting friends in Utah (former clients of NEHP!), and we decided to spend the day mountain biking in Park City. It was my second time riding these trails, so I wasn’t new to the terrain. We spent hours ripping through the mountains, tackling everything from flow trails to a few black diamonds. I felt great. On what would become our last run of the day (which I later found out is apparently something you’re never supposed to say out loud), I crashed. Pretty bad.

The last thing I remember is trying to bail as my bike pitched forward and my feet caught the handlebars. That’s it. Everything after that has been pieced together by everyone else because I don’t remember any of it.

Ironically, the trail itself wasn’t particularly difficult. It wasn’t some crazy downhill section or a feature I had no business attempting. Apparently, the problem was the sun. It had dropped just low enough that it completely washed out the jump ahead. My friend was about 30 seconds in front of me. He nearly crashed himself because he couldn’t see it either. By the time he realized what had happened and turned to yell a warning, all he heard was me yell, “OH SHIT!”

CRASH.

When he got to me, I was unconscious several feet off the trail. I woke up roughly 30-45 seconds later with absolutely no idea where I was or what had happened. I was conscious, but I wasn’t really there yet.

The next thing I remember is the park rangers asking me questions. They gave me three words to remember: Deer Park, Dirt, Ninja. For the first fifteen minutes or so, I couldn’t hold onto them. I’d repeat them, then they’d disappear. Eventually things started coming back. I was able to remember the words, answer questions, and cognitively I began feeling much more like myself.

The ER confirmed what we already suspected. I had a concussion, a decent cut on my face, road rash covering most of my right side, and a knee that needed stitches. Thankfully, nothing was broken, and my CT scan came back completely clear.

Ironically, the worst part of the entire experience may have been cleaning the road rash.

Holy hell.

The next few days were painful, but every day I noticed a significant improvement.

Looking back, there are a lot of people I’m incredibly grateful for. My buddy for getting to me so quickly and keeping me safe. The park rangers for responding as fast as they did. The doctors and nurses in Utah for providing outstanding care. And, of course, my wife, who was there for me through the entire ordeal.

About 3-4 days after the accident, something hit me.

This could have gone so much differently.

That thought honestly still gives me chills.

As I write this, it’s been 7 days since the crash. I’m feeling dramatically better, healing quickly, and I’ll catch a light cardio workout tomorrow.

The experience reinforced something I’ve believed for years.

I genuinely believe my level of fitness changed the outcome of that crash.

Based on how I was found, where my injuries ended up, and years of learning how to move my body, my best guess is that I instinctively tucked into a shoulder roll and absorbed the impact as efficiently as I possibly could. I wasn’t consciously making those decisions. My body simply reacted. Years of training had built movement patterns that took over when I needed them most.

I also believe carrying a decent amount of muscle protected my bones by absorbing some of the force. I believe years of eating well and taking care of myself gave my body the resources to recover much faster than it otherwise would have. I can’t prove every one of those things scientifically, but I lived the experience, and it’s hard for me to believe they didn’t matter.

People often think fitness is about looking good, living longer, or performing better in the gym. Those are certainly benefits, but I think they’re secondary.

The real value of fitness is preparing for the unknown.

Life doesn’t care how much you bench. It doesn’t care if you can run a marathon or hold a handstand. Life throws chaos at you when you least expect it. Sometimes it’s carrying your kid. Sometimes it’s helping a stranger. Sometimes it’s slipping on ice. And sometimes it’s getting launched off a mountain bike in Park City.

That’s why I believe so strongly in the CrossFit methodology.

I don’t think a yogi, a powerlifter, or someone who only does cardio would have been any better prepared for what happened to me than I was. CrossFit didn’t prepare me for a workout. It prepared me for life. It prepared me to move athletically, absorb force, recover, and ultimately walk away from an accident that could have ended very differently.

So if you’re reading this and you’re already a CrossFitter, understand that the workouts are about far more than what happens inside the walls of a gym. You’re building a body that’s prepared for whatever life throws at it.

You really are harder to kill.

And if you’re not a CrossFitter, I’d encourage you to become one.