The Invisible Injury: Navigating the Aftermath of a Freak Crash

In the life of a sprinter, every training session is a calculated risk. We spend our days pushing the absolute limits of speed and power, and we understand that crashes are a part of the sport. But usually, you expect them on the velodrome, inches from another rider at 45 miles per hour. You don’t expect them on a sunny Wednesday afternoon in a parking lot.

This past month, our squad was cross-training with BMX sprints. It’s a fantastic tool for us: the explosive, full-body effort of getting a BMX bike up to speed from a slow roll builds the raw power we need on the track. We had a simple course set up and a newer experience for me, having only done it once the previous week

Head Coach Justin Grace joining in on the training session

One moment I was exploding out of the gate, putting down as much power as I could. The next, my front wheel washed out underneath me. The crash itself was brutally fast and simple. I was on the pavement before I even knew what happened.

The immediate aftermath was familiar to any cyclist: a deep, stinging road rash across my hip and elbow and the frustrating diagnosis of a week off the bike. For an athlete on a rigid training schedule, a forced week of rest feels like an eternity. I watched my teammates train, feeling my own progress slip away, impatiently waiting for the scrapes to heal so I could get back to work.

Cleaning wounds immediately after the crash

But after the road rash faded, something else remained.

The real challenge of this injury hasn't been the visible wound, but the invisible one. The crash left me with persistent nerve pain shooting down left shoulder. It’s not the dull ache of a sore muscle; it’s a sharp, unpredictable sensation: a tingling numbness.

This is the side of elite sport that often goes unseen. It's not always about the dramatic comeback from a broken bone. Sometimes, it's about the quiet, daily management of a chronic issue. It’s about the extra hours spent on a physical therapy table, the meticulous focus on stretching and activation, and the mental fortitude required to train through discomfort without pushing past the breaking point.

This nerve pain has become an unexpected part of my journey. It's a constant reminder of how fragile our bodies can be, but also how resilient. It has forced me to become a smarter, more intuitive athlete and to listen to my body more carefully and to find new ways to build strength.

It’s an obstacle, without a doubt. But on the road to the 2028 Olympics, obstacles are guaranteed. This is just one of mine, and it will not stop me.