Eventually I snapped out of my daze and the sound came back as I watched the attempts to pry a driver out of his car. Another man was lying on the curb. At first I hadn't realized the gruesome, unnatural position of his leg, but after a closer look I knew it must have been broken in many places; it lay limp and turned awkwardly inward. The man had blood seeping from a gash on his face but didn't wince. Perhaps he was in shock, but his composure struck me as bravery. He looked with concern at his wife but was helpless to do anything. At first glimpse I thought the woman was okay — just shaken up, but after staring at her, I realized her leg, too, was bending backward slightly below the knee. She sat on the curb with her leg sagging limply in the gutter.
The majority of commotion was focused around the man trapped in his car. He was the one who caused the accident and his karma seemed to be coming full circle. The front ends of both cars were crumpled like beer cans and his legs were trapped somewhere in the tangled mess. He was hunched forward, head bowed as if he were saying grace. Blood gushed from his head and ran down his face, and once it made it to his nose, it mingled with snot and other fluids and dripped off the tip leaving red splatters on the white airbag. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, though more out than in. The attempts to free him from his self-inflicted torture chamber were fruitless.
I stood on the curb and, in a whirlwind, watched the paramedics arrive. Like ants, they were all over the scene, taking pictures, helping the injured and directing bystanders. The ambulance lights and camera flashbulbs reflecting off the walls of the tunnel created an eerie light. I stood and watched the methodical way in which they cut the door off the car to pry the man and his mangled legs out. Everyone was loaded into the ambulances and rushed off.
After sucking exhaust fumes for what seemed like hours we were loaded into a paramedic vehicle and shipped to the Red Cross. A bad version of Feliz Navidad mixed with static played on the radio as we drove away from the tunnel. I was dazed and nauseous. I tried to close my eyes but could still see blue headlights and the mangled position of the broken legs.
Since the accident, I've spent a lot of time contemplating fate, luck and chance. I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. I'm not sure of the significance of this event but I do know that the snow in the sun sparkles more and below zero weather in a speedsuit feels exhilarating. I also know that despite the differences we have, my teammates are not just teammates but friends for whom I care deeply. I feel so lucky that nothing happened to any of them.
When we went into that tunnel I may have been irritated with one of my teammates or angry with myself for my racing performance, but when I emerged, my head was clear and I felt blessed.
— Lisa Kosglow, MountainZone.com Correspondent
