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In May of 2024, I broke my right shoulder (fractured the scapular body, aka shoulder blade, and displaced it on every axis, plus compression fractures in a bunch of ribs) in a freakish off at 
turn five on NJMP Lightning. 

It was the 3 PM session, I had already been on the track for five 20-minute sessions, and my pace was the best it had been all day. The session felt smooth, and while pushing, I felt like I was riding within my limits; my assessment was reinforced by a follow I had completed a couple of laps earlier, a thumbs up, and a wave by. I carried too much speed deep into a corner, and I had the choice to add a lean angle or slow the bike and run wide; I chose the ladder. In hindsight, I should have tipped the bike in and risked the low side. I slowed the bike, no doubt target fixated, ran wide, and tucked the front in some sand, landing square on my shoulder, reminding myself of the order of the sport:

1. Eyes and focus
2. Motor controls
3. Bike placement
4. Brakes
5. Body position and body timing
6. Turn-in point and turn-in rate

Ken Hill Podcast – Order of the Sport Series

AND the consequences of the sport.

After the crash, adrenaline pumping, I got up, gave the corner worker a thumbs up, and walked to the wall, thinking, ouch, that didn’t feel good. The wrecker and ambulance rolled out, and an EMT asked if I was OK. I responded that my shoulder hurt a little, but I thought I was OK. By the time I got back to the paddock, I was like, maybe it hurts more than a little, and I remember someone saying, “Isn’t adrenaline effing awesome?” 🤘 The peeps at 
NJMP and The Riders Club are fantastic. They grabbed my wallet and phone from my truck for me, and I went off to the hospital, assured that they would get all my gear and bike in my trailer; they tied everything down and left my keys with security, a huge help given I wouldn’t get back on track for a week to get my truck and trailer, and I was pretty physically useless. I can’t thank them enough!

My call from the ambulance to Gwen (my wife) was a tough one; it’s me, don’t panic, I crashed, but I am OK; I hurt my shoulder, and I am on my way to the hospital to get checked out, but I am OK, stay put nothing you can do for me, I will call you when I have an update. That was around 3:30 PM, and I was discharged from the hospital at 10 PM; the plan was my brother would get me at the hospital, about an hour away, Gwen would drive to my brothers, about a two-hour ride, and then she would drive me home, leaving all my stuff at the track until I felt OK enough to drive it home, which happened a week later. It’s funny that care and control are often connected; when we love something like getting on a motorcycle, we burden our loved ones. We have a responsibility not to be reckless and to work to develop the skills that will help keep us safe, but the sport is unforgiving and has undeniable consequences. No right or wrong answer exists, and context certainly influences our perspective. When Gwen looked over at me and said, “I am sad that you got hurt, but truly sad that you are going to miss much of the riding season,” I thought, this is selfless love, and how lucky am I? Love is not control; it’s respecting one another, and if our actions are respectable and conducted responsibly, why should they be controlled? Is inherent risk a license to control someone? If so, we have provided the license, platform, and basis from which we can justify controlling just about anything; stop doing x, y, or z because I am concerned. The counterargument prefaces risk with the word “unnecessary,” and the question becomes unnecessary for whom? Every relationship is different; as I said, there is no right or wrong answer. I always expected that Gwen and I would be different people 30 years in, that our interests and passions would change or be renewed, that we would have experiences that would change our perspective, growing together, on a trajectory to leave this world unrecognizable from how we entered it. With this said, after nearly 30 years together, I think she knew I was not going to sit around with a broken shoulder for months doing nothing; from my perspective, it was business as usual with a lot more pain and an opportunity to get better at using my left arm. I was able to get back on a bike sooner than I thought and was even happier that Gwen was excited to ride with me in August. I think the fact that Gwen can overcome a natural apprehension to enjoy the freedom of riding helps her experience how I ride, observing my commitment to the sport and focus that allows her to trust that an accident is, in fact, an accident and not me being a fool trying to be Marc Marquez. I may have dreams about making a Marquez save, but I know they are dreams. 😀

At first, I thought I had dislocated my shoulder, and so did the ER, but it turned out I broke most of my ribs on the right side and snapped the body of my scapula. I was lucky to get some tremendous medical attention thanks to a good friend with a brilliant son and an orthopedic surgeon who picked up my call at 9 PM before the ER shipped me off to a Level 1 Trauma Center for emergency surgery for my “floating shoulder,” BTW, I didn’t have a floating shoulder. A good orthopedic surgeon’s phone evaluation of my condition and some advice led me to check myself out of the hospital and go home. One day later, thanks to a referral and professional courtesy, I saw one of the few orthopedic trauma surgeons in the country who performs surgical scapula repair. The evaluation of my condition was scientific; imagine that! We looked at the bone together, measured my displacement, and considered the context (my health, fitness, determination, expectations, etc.); the options for treatment were data-driven and focused on the best next step for me. With less than a week to decide, I went home and read and watched everything I could from Dr. Peter Cole, widely regarded as the king of scapula repair. I gathered the data and looked at surgical vs. non-surgical treatment indicators, comparing my condition to those of Dr. Cole’s patients treated surgically and non-surgically and their outcomes. My displacement was on the margin of surgical vs. non-surgical treatment. From my perspective, the decision was binary based on the geometry problem, which made it easy. Based purely on the math, I chose to rehab my shoulder, which involved and still involves stretching and strengthening the soft tissue to compensate for the displacement of the bone.

When I did a follow-up with the orthopedic surgeon a few days later to provide my decision, I rattled off all the reasons why, based on Dr. Cole’s research, and just a few days after the accident, I had good mobility, better than he expected so my doctor agreed and thought my prognosis was good with conservative treatment. My orthopedic surgeon mentioned that I was a unique case for him, that as a trauma surgeon, he rarely talks to patients before cutting, and that if he saw me in the ER, he would probably cut because most people ask silly questions like “when will I be 100%?” The answer to that question, with or without surgery, is never; the reality is that most patients are not willing to rehab for a year, with the possibility that the bone needs to be re-broken and surgically repaired; add unrealistic expectations, and the answer is usually to cut. I found this interesting and insightful. The bottom line is that the only guarantee from surgery is a big scar and the inherent risks of surgery, and everything else is the best effort. The doctor asked me for my goals, and I responded, “When can I get back on a bike?” He said you’ll be able to ride again, but I tell all patients who have severe injuries from motorcycle accidents to stop riding, but they never do, so I know you’ll get back on a bike. I was riding again in July, not on the track, but riding.

Thanks to the sound scientific evaluation and guidance from my orthopedic trauma surgeon and a good PT regimen, I worked hard on rehab. While the bone has fused in a displaced manner, I have regained close to 100% of the mobility in my shoulder. It will never be quite right like the doctor told me; you got the shoulder you wanted, not the bedside manner for everyone, but for me, it’s perfect; if you know me, you know what I mean. I wanted to go and get my truck and trailer from the track two days after the accident. Gwen didn’t think I could drive, and I said I would ask the doctor, so I asked if I could drive. The doctor responded as if I was answering my own question: “I don’t know, can you drive? I have plenty of patients who drive with one arm. If you feel like you can drive, then you can drive.” After the doctor’s visit, I got in the car, looked at Gwen, and said I love this doctor!

I’m working the shoulder religiously, getting more mobile and stronger every day, and I can’t wait to get back on the track in April, maybe sooner for some MiniMOTO, assuming I can get the ZS190 shifting properly between now and March, the engine is a beast, but the transmission sucks. I ordered an upgraded clutch pack; going to change the clutch pack, adjust the clutch arm, and change the oil to try to reduce friction a bit to break in the clutch, and hopefully, that will resolve the hard shifting issues. 🤞

This situation wasn’t on the bucket list, and it certainly wasn’t fun, but ironically, I took a lot away from it. Physically not being able to do something like brush your teeth or put your socks on no matter how hard you try is mentally exhausting, but working through it creates a level of mental toughness that you simply can’t acquire any other way, and emerging from such trauma is a gift in many ways. As we age, it is human nature to to do less and often get less out of life because we fear the consequences. We can’t change the fact that our recovery is longer as we age; this is science, so we have to make choices, and those choices involve prioritization. I love getting on a motorcycle, going fast, and pushing to shave a second off my lap time. I love the intensity and the focus required. I love processing all the inputs and making decisions; it calms me, but to keep doing this at my age and as I age, I have to make choices, and these choices involve giving up other things I enjoy like food, booze, days off, etc., to ensure I maintain a physical state that allows me to ride, avoid injury and recover. As we get older, we can keep doing the things we love, but depending on what we love to do, we might have to give up some things we enjoy.

We all hope that our lives will be frictionless and filled with limitless joy and success, but like any machine, friction and wear are part of life. Our minds, bodies, and souls require maintenance, and even then, we have to contend with unforeseen variables that can disrupt our plan. Our tests will always occur under stress and load; it is the nature of being tested, and our desire and ability to persevere will be proportionate to our love and passion. Many people think riding a motorcycle is dangerous, but they will not think twice about jumping on a horse for the first time on their honeymoon with no training and minimal safety equipment. The statistics are interesting.

I found it interesting and logical that ice climbers would be injured less and horseback riders injured more than motorcycle riders. I think a combination of factors makes the statistics somewhat predictable; the barrier to entry, aka accessibility, inherent risk, training, and preparation (aka practice). I ride on the road, track (asphalt and dirt) and in the woods, and admittedly I don’t follow the ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time) rule when road riding which increases my risk, but I don’t treat the road like the track, I do train and practice relentlessly (thousands of hours and miles), working on every aspect of the sport, respecting the physics and consequences, compensating for the physical limitations that come with age (e.g., my eyes, foveal and peripheral vision are not what they were when I was 20) and working until I feel I can’t get it wrong before shifting my focus to degree of application.

“Motorcycling is not, of itself, inherently dangerous. It is, however, extremely unforgiving of inattention, ignorance, incompetence, or stupidity.” – Anonymous

I love the quote above, and anyone who knows me knows I respect the sentiment and probably knows why I love the sport. I am extremely unforgiving of inattention, ignorance, incompetence, and stupidity, and if everything we did in life had the consequences of motorcycling, we would see less of the aforementioned.

The reality is that the majority of motorcyclists are not ignorant of the consequences of riding; they are educated and focused, not on their phones or feeding their kids chicken nuggets in the backseat while riding, and they spend a lot of time working to develop their skills, understanding riding from every aspect from the physics to the physical requirements. Many of us follow life rules, like the 24-hour bottle-to-throttle rule, and many of us, like myself, love the sport so much that we want to prolong our ability to do it and improve, so we happily and willingly begin to give up many things we enjoy so we can continue doing something we love. I have always loved the quote, “You can have anything you want; you just can’t have everything.” We spend precious time trying to “have it all,” but the reality is that having the few things we love is all that matters; the time spent trying to have too much is time spent away from deeply loving the few things that matter.

Those who know me know I am not one to have conversations about the weather, just not who I am, I have an opinion, and I am looking to be educated on everything I talk about; my mind is open, and I am searching for a more educated and impassioned argument. For many, I will have spent too much time reflecting on this topic and writing this blog, but how we do anything is how we do everything, and reflection is part of the psychological healing process. The reflection and process have locked in for me that we possess finite capacity, and to execute and enjoy them at a high level, we have to prioritize our focus on the things we love; everything else is either in support of the things we love or a distraction that impedes our progress. To maximize our love we have to sacrifice, if we don’t feel the burn of sacrifice, we have to question the depth of our passion.

I can’t wait to get back on the track! 🏍 Of course, my bike will have a new paint job. 😊

This season, I have greatly improved my track setup, so looking forward to getting to the track early and getting a good night’s sleep.

I logged many hours and miles between August and December and feel fit enough to get back on the track. I have followed the process to make sure I limited the mental block that occurs after a crash with significant trauma.

1. Reflect on the crash, understand why I crashed, and learn from it. ✅
2. Get back on the bike as soon as possible, not providing the opportunity for daemons to invade my psyche. ✅
3. Take it slow; you will be slower, and that is OK. ✅
4. Accept that no matter how good of a rider you are, mistakes and accidents happen, the sport is unforgiving, and the consequences are generally higher. ✅
5. Keep training and practicing. #1 should provide an indicator of something we need to work on. ✅

Even though I have fully committed to the five steps above and been methodical in my approach, I know that I will have some psychological demons to battle on April 16th. Reflection, reliving, and accepting the crash are all part of the process that will hopefully make that day more manageable. This blog entry and this blog are part of the psychological healing process.