Hit by a driver using a handheld mobile phone

I landed on my right side in almost a fetal position. Eyes open, breathing, alive, and looking at a stream of blood spurting from my legs and far onto the road.

My leg, I now know, will never get any better. Despite my denial, despite my hoping otherwise, I think I knew in the back of my mind that things would never be the same. I have good days, and better days, as I like to tell people. The good days can be rough, struggling with pain, and knowing all the things that I can no longer do, like walk for more than a couple of blocks, hike on a trail, run, workout at the gym like I used to.

People ask me if I am bitter or hateful that this happened. No, not really. When you ride a bike more than 6,000 miles per year, training, racing and competing, it's not a matter of if it will happen, but a matter of when.