Sometimes They Fall: A Story of Courage (Part I)

April 24, 2007 was the last Tuesday in April. I know this because my book club meets the last Tuesday of every month. It was going to be a big night at the track. The weather was beautiful and the track was pristine. The BMX dads had a fish fry planned. I opted out, choosing instead to discuss Out of the Flames with my book club ladies. Not that I had much to say about the Restoration and Holy Trinity. And so, Vann (BMX dad) took the boys to practice.

My phone started ringing during our heated discussion of Michael Servetus, and his gory demise at the stake. I'm never interrupted at book club. I answered. The voice on the line was forcibly calm, hiding panic. "William is hurt. I need you to come to the track now."  I began spewing questions, but the only response was, "Get here NOW."

I left abruptly, trying to control my speed, all the while wondering why on earth I wasn't meeting them at the emergency room that I was driving past. The drive seemed too long. I hurried. The phone rang. Hurry. Hurry.


I saw the ambulance first.

After a full night of practice, followed by a race, the kids ate dinner and continued to ride. It was almost time to leave when William was hit. The other rider didn't see him. I was told that William cried out and went silent. When they tried to lift him, his left femur folded, and the ambulance was called.

William was sprawled on the track, the color gone from his face. He wasn't crying. He was loaded into the ambulance with me beside him. He was immediately stuck with an IV and given the maximum dose of morphine a 55 Ib body can take. The pulse in his left foot was checked repeatedly for signs of a severed femoral artery. We looked like a parade arriving at the hospital, with everyone from the track following behind the ambulance.

"Only three visitors allowed", we were told, as all but Vann, Wyatt and I dispersed. William's pants had to be removed for the x-ray. When the technician began cutting his pants, William began to cry. "I know it hurts baby", I soothed. "My new pants!" He sobbed. They were brand new red Fox racing pants. Then he turned to me quietly and asked, "Mommy, will you please get me some boxers in case this ever happens again?" Apparently he picked the wrong night to wear his Darth Vader drawers.

Watching William's face during his x-ray was torture, and I wanted to borrow his morphine drip just to get through it. The technician summoned us to the screen. It didn't require a phd to see that William's left femur, the largest bone in his little body, had snapped like a twig. In my nauseated stupor, I asked, "Is it broken?" (The image shown is a week after the accident. It's probably a good thing that I couldn't locate the emergency room x-rays.)

We were informed that the pediatric orthopedic surgeon had been called, and was on the way. When he arrived, he quickly explained that William would be prepped for surgery, and surgery would be performed immediately if the bone could not be set externally.  It was past 11:00, and Wyatt was asleep in a chair. Vann needed to get him home, and was forced to leave with all the uncertainty looming. Soon after, I was introduced to the team of surgeons, orthopedists, nurses and anesthesiologists who had been assembled to put our son back together. When it was time, I kissed William, and held his hand for as long as they would let me, as they wheeled the gurney to the O. R.

William has been the cause of the longest hours of my life: first, his laborious natural birth, then, this. Time stood still as I fidgeted restlessly and made necessary phone calls.

After three hours, William's chief orthopedist, Dr. Fahey, materialized in the waiting room. The cast application had been successful, and the bone had been set externally. William had been placed in a spica, which you really have to see to believe. I was led to recovery, where William was just waking up. He looked down. "Oh God", he muttered softly. I held his hand again as we were checked into our room. Drowsy from morphine and anesthesia, I thought William would sleep. Instead, he cried softly the rest of the night. I cried too, because I didn't know how to help my son.

To be continued...

BMX Mom

 PART TWO

Dixieland Nationals: Great Competition and Great Friends

Lexington, SC boasts one of the best tracks in the the Southeast, and we had been looking forward to this event weekend for months. The Sox brothers didn't disappoint. The track was pristine, with a new pro-set that made for exciting elite mains. 

Weekend events kicked off on Friday with a skills clinic. The boys trained for three hours with pros Jeff Upshaw (shown with William), Chris Norberg, and head instructor Justin Travis. A special thanks to Chris, who rides on Schanewolf with the boys (more on teams in a future blog), for spending some extra time coaching William.


Racing kicked off Saturday. William's final race weekend as an 8-year-old proved to be no walk in the park. He's had stiff competition in both 8x and cruiser  from Zachary Von Bergen since they first met up at the Easter Classic last month. On Saturday, Zach put the hammer down on William in 8x, but William retaliated and took the win in cruiser. In spite of their fierce competitiveness, I watched these two fist-bump on the gate, and wish each other good luck. At the finish line, there were smiles and high-fives. 


Wyatt was on fire Saturday, and pushed hard for a win. He didn't miss it by much, and we came away feeling pretty confident for Sunday's race.


After the boys finished their mains, the Stacy Mitchhart Band kept us entertained while we waited for elite racing action to begin. We were fortunate enough to have our good friends the Greens with us. Their son Grant, and William have been racing together since they were 5. While the adults enjoyed live music and cold libations, the very same boys who strategize against one another on the track ate cupcakes and hot dogs together, and had an unfair match up of big brothers against little brothers football on the adjacent soccer field. By the end of the afternoon, the boys were tired, happy, and covered with South Carolina dirt and Duncan Hines chocolate icing. 


Don't think for a minute William wasn't disappointed by his loss in 8x. He played it over in his head and strategized like mad in preparation for Sunday. When morning rolled around though, the wins didn't come for him. He pulled seconds in both classes. Each race is a learning experience though, and he knows what he needs to do to prepare for next time.

Sunday's story was all about Wyatt. His day started out down-right crummy. Fortunately I was watching morning practice. Wyatt crashed hard enough to send me hurdling the fence like Jackie Joyner-Kersee. Mucho thanks to the random bmx dad who yelled "hold the gate!" and helped me drag Wyatt and his bike off the track before the gate dropped and released the stampede. After a hug and a kiss and a general once-over, he was back in the saddle again.

Our team, Schanewolf, came in 2nd overall on Saturday, and Wyatt was selected to ride in the Sunday morning parade lap (pictured right). Mr. Schanewolf has been applauding his efforts lately, and is anxious to try him on a team sheet after he earns his move-ups.

Wyatt's luck carried over into motos. In moto one, Wyatt came unclipped-- twice. He managed to get control though, and catch up to take third. Moto two was a close second. Before moto three, we told him he had it. He had won one moto the previous day, so we knew he had it in him. He shot out of the gate like a cannon, and took an early lead. No one was close. It was his. Then, he hit a jump wrong, and was down. We watched as the others passed him by. We watched him pick himself up and get on the bike. We watched him haul a** to catch the pack and still come in fifth. Truly, I had never seen anyone do that before. He came back smiling, covered in red clay from head to toe. Two people we didn't know complimented him on his tenacity. I bet you can't guess what happened in the main---- 

Yeah!! He WON!

BMX Mom

In the Beginning

Had I known then what I know now, William would have started racing at age 3. For him, the bike is an appendage. Like an arm or a leg, he wouldn't be quite himself without it. It operates as a part of him rather than simply being operated by him. These are the things his dad and I have learned as we've watched his skills develop-- somewhat naturally. However, there were early signs.

William was a stoic baby. I would force the smiles out of him with all the gusto of Barney the Dinosaur.  I would cherish every brief smile and "heh heh heh" which would quickly dissipate into a judge-like demeanor. His happiness measured my success so to speak.


On Christmas morning 2002, a chubby, 18-month old William toddled out to discover what Santa had left him -- a radio flyer tricycle. Suddenly the days of stoicism came to a halt. The grins and laughter coming from that child brought tears to my eyes. Even with his sumo wrestler physique, he had no trouble operating the tiny trike, and could soon travel up and down the side walk.

During this time, another biker was developing. By February, I was hugely pregnant. Not due until mid-May, I began to dilate, and was put on "bed rest". What a joke. Anyone with a 1-yr-old knows that there is no such thing as "bed rest".  We did the best we could, but William was restless for his forays on the sidewalk with his trusty trike. Thinking I could easily keep up with what was basically an overgrown infant, I set out with William. Before I knew it, he revved up those legs and was halfway up the street. My hollering only seemed to fuel his engines. I had no choice but to grab my contracting belly and run after William, who was already torturing his unborn brother.

Christmas 2004, William received his first 2-wheeler with carefully applied training wheels. "I don't want those. Take them off." "You need them", I said. "No, I don't." The training wheels were removed, and William was rolled down the slight decline in our front yard-- at least 100 times. Less than a week later, he could only be separated from his Schwinn Stingray at mealtime. (Shown above, a 3-yr-old William riding with his older cousin Ryan.)

A year later, William was invited to the BMX track by his pre-school buddy Shelton, who was also proficient on two wheels. Something happened that day as I watched William fall, slide down jumps, and drag his bike back up with all his might. William found happiness. 

It was then I became a BMX Mom. Every Tuesday and Thursday William was faithfully at practice. Our then track director, David Shields, raved about William's ability to focus at such a young age. He convinced us to buy William's first racing bike, a Redline Proline mini.

During the 2006 season, William raced 10 local races, just enough to qualify him to race in the Southeast Regional Championship. The race was held in Albany, GA, and combined with the Fall Classic nationals. We had no idea what to expect, or how he would fare. William's class, the 5 and under rookies, were out en masse. That Saturday, William faced qualifying motos, quarters and semis in both the national race and regional championship. William easily perfected both races, and suddenly we were introduced to the intricacies of move-ups and sandbagging. (Photo: William with his biggest supporter, brother Wyatt, after the races.)

That first event weekend in 2006 changed the course of our lives. Ever since, our weekends have been filled with training and events, and making new friends in the bmx community. William reflects regularly, "What if Shelton had never invited me to the track?" Funny thing is, we have no idea where Shelton is today. Wherever you are, Shelton, we thank you.

BMX Mom