Touring - What injuries have you had?

I did a short overnight tour this weekend, and about 1km after leaving home my waterbottle fell out. I lunged downwards to try and catch it, and probably twisted my handlebars, because I ended up getting thrown over the handlebars and coming down in a bit of a heap in the road.

I've fallen before, but only when the bike's gone over sideways, so this was a new experience for me. The worst consequence of the spill was losing a large circle of skin off one elbow, so I was really quite lucky (but less lucky than a person who doesn't fall off their bike).

But it got me wondering: What injuries have you had from touring?

It was pretty windy around here in the spring. We did a little tour into Utah. We were riding down a road and had a strong crosswind coming from the right.
We had to stop at an intersection. My gf unclipped with her right foot to stop and a strong gust of wind pushed her right over onto her left side. At some point falling over she jammed her leg into the chainring, just above the ankle. She still has some faint scars from it.

There isn't a tour where I don't finish with multiple pedal marks on the right leg. Hitting the tibia with the pedal is the cycling equivalent of hitting your little toe on the bed corner. It f$%"/? hurts and you feel stupid.

I don`t think I have hurt myself, or I don`t remember. I mostly worry about stuff from wear. I have some bad joints from accidents, and I worry about arthritis or other injuries.

my first long tour out of high school I rode too long and too hard up the coast to Mendocino against cold wind. Had to rest a day as my lungs felt like a wet sponge.

I've sprained my wrists crashing. Ibuprofen helped me keep riding.

Nothing too bad for me, but my girlfriend sliced her toe open on our last (tandem) tour. Somehow she got her toe in between the chainring and chain. Blood, guts, ambulances, hospitals, stitches. Don't do that.

Nothing past scratches and saddle sores, unless you count getting knocked on the head by a car trunk while training for a tour. (The ER said I was fine.)

broken collarbone came down hard on black ice ,another time i came down when a fred in the group decided to take in the scenery (road group) hit my handlebars i ended up in hospital with head injury,s don,t cycle with freds anymore .
at the moment i have a trapped nerve in my back really painful when the going gets tough.
did i mention 3 broken ribs yet another fred group .
stay away from freds there bloody dangerous to cycle with and they always come off smelling roses.

Specifically from touring ...

Crashed at the top of a steep hill in England 2003. I was going so slowly, I couldn't unclip in time. I still have the scar on my right elbow.

Crashed descending down a gravel road in Queensland in 2004. Tore my left knee to bits. Had to ride 160 km to civilisation, where I caught the bus to the next town and spent 5 days recovering before setting off again.

Crashed into Rowan shortly after we docked in France. I was looking around at everything and didn't realise he had stopped. I hurt my wrist a bit, but that was about it.


My worst crashes have happened on non-touring rides ... cracked ribs, separated shoulder, concussion, etc.

On tour... I've been lucky so far. I have probably had a few minor cuts or burns in camp, but none are memorable enough that I recall them.

I have been injured riding around town when not on tour. That resulted in an ambulance ride and a longish recovery with not much riding. Another time (20-ish years ago) a high speed MTB crash sent me to the hospital.

Just cycling/not while touring
When I was VERY young, had always lived in flat (I mean FLAT) area. Went to visit a friend who'd moved to a hilly area. We raced around the block - um, no one told me that you needed to slow down when cornering. I'd always just run up onto the lawn if I was at tooo great a speed to make the turns at home. Hit a "squared street curb", fork collasped, I went over the handlebars - well, actually the bike fliped I think. I landed straddling the top tube --- manthings made contact. Spent 5 days in bed, legs apart ... Never raced again - EVER! (BTW, everything still works years later. Whew)

Broken collarbone from a fall after an idiot crossed wheels with me while just out tooling around at 7 mph.

Broken wrist from fall after being attacked by a dog.

Broken wrist from fall after being doored in an urban area.

Early in my short cycling career, a compound fx of left collarbone, 5 busted ribs, and a concussion after hitting a dog at 30 mph rolling down a hill playing Lance A. Cracked helmet hanging in garage as a reminder. I still bogey down the hills, but with my head up looking for man's best friend.

I haven't injured myself on tour, but I have a recurring soreness in my knees. I have a history of tendonitis, and I think the tendons in my knees get inflamed from all the repetitive movements. I try and keep a smooth pedaling stroke, take ibuprofen when it starts to get bad, and will take a rest day if it starts to get really painful. So far so good.

oh right, injuries. Most of mine came after I stopped racing and long distance riding. Broken collarbone at 33 then mild concussion at 53. Most of my dangerous high speed riding I did without a helmet in my early 20's. It's like cars, things start breaking after the warranty is over.

I was touring light when it turned ugly, at the time, heading down a fairly steep gravel trail. Doesn't the word gravel just say it all? I hit a bump, and I'm not sure exactly what happened next. I suspect that the bump jarred my hands so that I clamped down on the front and rear brakes, subsequently flying headlong over the handlebars. Upon landing, I immediately decided that loosing consciousness was an essential, if radical, next step. Regaining consciousness I found: I had ripped most of the skin off the palm of my left hand; shattered my helmet; broke my right elbow; broke my left foot; pebbles were embedded under the skin of my left knee, which I didn't even think was possible; and my backpack shredded, vomiting its contents across the trail in what must certainly have been a dramatic display of colour and clanking. Some people happened along not too long after the panic of crippled isolation has sunk in, complete with images of living off my own urine until help could arrive. They called an ambulance for me. With their help, I was able to limp a quarter mile to the closest spot the ambulance could make it to - one of the passers-by actually took my bike home and held onto it until I could retrieve it. In retrospect, I was going a bit fast, and the thirty pounds I was carrying in my backpack no doubt played a vital role at launch time. I was laid-up for about a month, couldn't wipe myself for the first two weeks, and it was a year before I could nerve more than 40kph on a descent. On the other hand, waiting at the hospital on a gurney, in a line of gurneys, with two paramedics standing over me, a slight breeze blowing through my wounds, I heard a woman screaming as madly as she was incoherently. I looked at the paramedics with an expressing that must have conveyed the question, "what the **** is that all about?" "That's what happens when you don't wear a helmet," said the one paramedic. "Brain damage," clarified the other. I leaned back and enjoyed the calm throbbing of mere flesh wounds.

I was touring light when it turned ugly, at the time, heading down a fairly steep gravel trail. Doesn't the word gravel just say it all? I hit a bump, and I'm not sure exactly what happened next. I suspect that the bump jarred my hands so that I clamped down on the front and rear brakes, subsequently flying headlong over the handlebars. Upon landing, I immediately decided that loosing consciousness was an essential, if radical, next step. Regaining consciousness I found: I had ripped most of the skin off the palm of my left hand; shattered my helmet; broke my right elbow; broke my left foot; pebbles were embedded under the skin of my left knee, which I didn't even think was possible; and my backpack shredded, vomiting its contents across the trail in what must certainly have been a dramatic display of colour and clanking. Some people happened along not too long after the panic of crippled isolation has sunk in, complete with images of living off my own urine until help could arrive. They called an ambulance for me. With their help, I was able to limp a quarter mile to the closest spot the ambulance could make it to - one of the passers-by actually took my bike home and held onto it until I could retrieve it. In retrospect, I was going a bit fast, and the thirty pounds I was carrying in my backpack no doubt played a vital role at launch time. I was laid-up for about a month, couldn't wipe myself for the first two weeks, and it was a year before I could nerve more than 40kph on a descent. On the other hand, waiting at the hospital on a gurney, in a line of gurneys, with two paramedics standing over me, a slight breeze blowing through my wounds, I heard a woman screaming as madly as she was incoherently. I looked at the paramedics with an expressing that must have conveyed the question, "what the **** is that all about?" "That's what happens when you don't wear a helmet," said the one paramedic. "Brain damage," clarified the other. I leaned back and enjoyed the calm throbbing of mere flesh wounds.
brilliant post i could feel the tingles going to through my body reading that ouch.