Arizona Trail Race, Day five The only way I am going to stop rolling is to slam my head into the ground. I am suspended above the ground--momentarily--completing my second somersault, having been pitched over my handlebars while descending a steep, rocky road in the middle of the Arizona desert. My right thumb is hurting badly enough that I know I have done some damage to it in my initial contact with the ground and I tell myself to keep my arms tucked at my side to prevent either a further injury, or doing the same to my left hand. The Gila River is out there somewhere Seeing the rocky terrain come back into view, with the additional hazard of desert flora quickly approaching, I resolutely thrust my helmeted head onto the ground. Crack. There is audible evidence of contact as my helmet does its job by deforming with the rock it has struck, taking the worst of the impact away from my skull. Amazingly, this contact does exactly what I had hoped that it would--it stops m