The general anesthetic hadn’t fully kicked in when I was rushed into the operating room. I found myself conscious on the operating table but unable to move a muscle or communicate. I was listening to the surgeons talking with each other as they began reopening the incisions from my first surgery. I was screaming at them but the screams were all in my head.
The Dodge Retort.
That's me getting up after crashing on my bike in September, 2017. I rode another 24 miles with three broken ribs to finish the Seacoast century. Heroic, yes. Stupid, yes.
