After your serious fall at the beginning of August, it was rumoured that you might never be able to walk properly again. How did you cope with the shock?
The first diagnosis was devastating. My feet were mud. Nobody knew whether I would ever be able to walk again, let alone mountain bike. A world collapsed for me. I cried. My business model, professional freeriding, seemed to be at an end. But eat or die. Before I knew it, I was lying in bed with fixators and numerous screws in my feet. My only big goal was to be able to walk again in three months. The doctors had a different opinion. But during the four months in the wheelchair, I didn't care. I switched to crutches at the beginning of December. I can now walk again, albeit slowly.
Since then, there has been a lot of hype about you. Focus magazine and ZDF have reported on you. Isn't it sad that the general public is only interested in your fall and the associated suffering, but not in your sporting performance?
It is certainly sad on the one hand, but completely understandable on the other. These media appeal to a very broad audience. Our sport is still a niche. The masses can't identify with a freerider or empathise with this sport. But they can put themselves in the shoes of a wheelchair user. People are sensationalists. Nevertheless, I believe that I can bring the sport closer to the masses with my message.
What is your message?
Something bad happened to me, but I want to get back to where I was before the injury from a sporting point of view. Why? Mountain biking is the coolest sport I can imagine. It's my life.
How do you want to bring such a serious accident into a positive context with mountain biking?
Despite the pain I've suffered over the last six months because of sport, I don't want to miss out on the moments I spend on my bike. The sport has given my life more than it could ever take away, regardless of the injury. You don't necessarily have to be a mountain biker to get injured like that. It can also happen in everyday life. You have to put that into perspective.
You yourself have epitomised extreme sports at freeride events. There's no denying that you expose yourself to a high level of risk when making big jumps. What do you have to see in relation to that?
What is definitely true is that the dimensions to which we have pushed ourselves in freeriding are disproportionate to the safety precautions. At the Suzuki Nine Nights, for example, I always made sure that all stunts were safe. For long distances, we place the landing higher than the take-off in order to minimise the amount of altitude energy in the event of a crash. This prevents unnecessary risks. There have never been any serious injuries. The "bigger - further - faster" boom naturally harbours dangers. That's why jumps need to be built more safely. Mistakes happen to everyone, whether in everyday life or in sport. But the consequences of poorly constructed jumps can be fatal.
Your failed jump had fatal consequences. It happened on your own show ramp. How could it even happen?
The jump before this show was absolutely standard for me. However, I obviously wasn't properly focussed and took the test jump lightly. On top of that, there was a tailwind and a steep approach. I was too fast and thought to myself in the air: "Now just roll off as normal, as usual." But then I hit the ground unchecked from a height of around five metres. Roll off? Not a chance. I knew immediately that I wouldn't just get up this time. The emergency doctor didn't arrive until twenty minutes later. It was the worst pain of my life.
You didn't let it get you down. Where do you get the energy from?
I have a great team around me. My coach Lorenz Westner from the Fürstenfeldbruck sports school was still dealing with my injury in the hours before the operation and kept motivating me during my rehab. The doctors set the course with the successful operations. The rehab team, especially my physiotherapists, are currently the basis of my motivation. The accident pressed the reset button in my life. I sorted out unnecessary things and focussed fully on my recovery with the clear goal of standing on my own two feet again. I saw the accident as a challenge, not as fate. I checked my weekly progress with small interim goals. That helped me the most.
You are financially dependent on biking. Are you worried about your livelihood?
My contract with Giant expired three weeks after my operation, regardless of the accident. Stupid timing. But at the moment that's of secondary importance to me. Getting fit again is the number one goal. The rest of my sponsors are still behind me.
What does your future look like?
One thing's for sure: I can't pull off jumps as extreme as I used to. I have ideas about how I want to get back. But it will be some time before I can ride my bike again. Just don't rush it.
About the person: Andi Wittmann
The 28-year-old from Bad Aibling lives for his sport. He rode as a freeride pro for Giant for nine years. Every year, Wittmann organises the Suzuki Nine Knights in Livigno, where the crème de la crème of the freeride scene comes together. A careless mistake at a dirt jump show put the Bavarian in a wheelchair. But things are looking up! www.andiwittmann.com
On Andi Wittmann's Facebook page, you can follow his rehab quite closely and see how hard he fought to get back on his bike.
You can read this article or the entire BIKE 4/2016 issue in the BIKE app (iTunes and Google Play) or buy the issue in the DK shop reorder:
