RIDE ON
W hen L ife G oes S ideways
Julie Hasse
I
n March 2016, while riding my new-to-me 2003 BMW
F650GS, I broke my leg on the Alpha Base Camp ride
into the Mohave — day four of RawHyde’s “Intro to
Adventure” course.
I’d been assigned to write about my experiences by
a motorcycling magazine, and along with fellow rid-
ers, had just passed the weekend off-road skills training
course.
I felt ready to apply the skills we’d all just learned. Dur-
ing the first 100 miles of what was supposed to be a two-
day, 340-mile ride into the Mohave, I felt like I was flying
— ecstatic, free and capable of anything. I couldn’t stop
grinning as we rode under the huge white wind turbines
that stood along parts of our ride.
Then the bike and I went down. I simply lost my line
on a gravelly, sandy uphill turn and flew off my bike, land-
ing hard on my left leg. When I got up to turn my bike off
I collapsed from the pain. Another rider behind me went
down at about the same time so we both had to get evacu-
ated out by the coaches. The other riders were bummed
to see us go but, hey, they had to carry on.
Everything I thought and felt about falling was am-
plified by the fact that it was a group ride and I was now
holding the group back. In addition to being upset that I
had failed at a challenge for which I had worked so hard
to complete, it really unsettled me to have to ask for help.
Breaking my leg brought deep emotions to the surface.
I’ve always had a fear of doctors and their weird pharma-
ceuticals, their obsession with needles and their coming
at me from all sides with sharp objects.
Once, as an eight-year old, I bolted out of our family
doctor’s office and ran amok around our town square re-
fusing the doctor’s inevitable probing. My mother didn’t
catch up to me for 30 minutes.
This phobia remains. But with this injury, I didn’t bolt.
Instead, I sought out less invasive ways to combat pain
and to heal. I regained the strength of my muscles and
fostered the healing of my leg by swimming, performing
gentle and gradually increasing weight-bearing exercises,
and plenty of massages.
After several weeks of this, I was antsy and felt that if I
didn’t get back on my motorcycle soon my interest would
fade away. Within about 15 weeks after my accident, and
clearly against doctors’ orders, I climbed back on my mo-
torcycle and rode 500 miles over a two-day period, camp-
ing along the way.
Then, on July 7, I received the news that Jim, my boy-
friend, collaborator and riding partner, died in a terribly
swift ATV accident.
I was gutted. I had been struggling to heal from my
accident, and now I’d lost the man who had introduced
me to the wonderful world of off-road motorcycling. My
love.
But there was more to come.
A few weeks later, I had a seizure. I’d never had one
before, and there was no warning or reason to expect this
one.
By law, this event yanked my driver’s license away for
months until I could prove to the DMV (Department of
Motor Vehicles) that I was seizure free.
Compounding my grief and adding yet another blow,
the medicine prescribed to me made me feel terri-
ble. I felt inebriated for months. I was suicidal, slept
as much as possible only to feel sleep-deprived. I have
long hours of not remembering what I did or how I even
functioned. So I stopped taking it and, thanks to living
on the West Coast, found ever-so-slowly a combo of CBD
(Cannabidiol) medication that made me feel reasonably
well and kept me seizure-free.
I lost many friends. Many people couldn’t handle my
state of grieving Jim and lost confidence. It was hell try-
ing to explain to people I disappointed or annoyed by not
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