What a Bike Helmet Does in the Ten Milliseconds That Matter
Almost everyone owns a bike helmet, and almost no one has watched one do its job. The whole event is over in about ten milliseconds — a single, violent instant that a helmet is built to survive exactly once. This study drops a standard test headform onto pavement twice, bare and helmeted, at the same speed, and reads the deceleration the head actually feels. The two pulses are the entire story: the helmet cannot change how fast you were going, so it does the only thing physics leaves on the table — it buys time, and it buys that time by destroying itself.
Same speed in, very different stop
Drop anything 2.0 m and it arrives at 6.26 m/s carrying, for a 5 kg headform, about 98 joules of kinetic energy. Stopping it means taking that speed to zero, and the impulse–momentum theorem is blunt about the trade: the change in velocity is fixed, so the only freedom is how long you take. A short stop means a huge force; a long stop means a gentle one. A helmet is a machine for stretching the stop.
We read the head's deceleration straight from the solver — the rigid headform's center-of-mass motion, low-pass filtered with the standard SAE J211 CFC-1000 headform channel. The bare head, cushioned only by a thin compliant scalp layer, arrests in about a millisecond and a half and the trace spikes to roughly 690 g. The helmeted head takes about five milliseconds and never gets past 250 g. The two curves carry the same area — the same velocity removed — but one is a brief cliff and the other a long, low hill.

Why the foam crushes at a nearly constant stress
The trick is the material. Expanded polystyrene — the white bead foam inside almost every helmet — is engineered to collapse at a roughly constant stress over a long stroke, rather than springing back like a rubber pad. Push on it and it resists at a steady plateau pressure while its cells fold flat one after another; only once nearly all the cells are collapsed does it stiffen sharply. That plateau is what turns a spike into a hill: a constant crushing stress over a contact patch is a constant force, and a constant force is a constant, survivable deceleration.
To trust that behavior we crushed a single column of the liner foam on its own, slowly, as a check against the material law we fed in. The solved column reproduces the input curve almost exactly — a flat plateau near 1 MPa holding out to more than half compression, then the steep densification wall where the foam runs out of room.

The head rides down the plateau — and nearly reaches the wall
In the full drop, the crown of the liner crushes about 15 mm of its 28 mm thickness — and in the most-loaded column it reaches roughly 60% strain, right at the foot of the densification wall. That is a helmet doing exactly what it should at a genuinely severe energy: using almost all of its stroke to keep the force down, without quite bottoming out onto a hard stop. Had the drop been higher, the foam would have run into densification and the peak would have shot up — which is precisely the cliff a thicker or denser liner is chosen to avoid.

Where the energy goes
The cleanest way to see the helmet working is to follow the energy. At the moment of contact the head carries all 98 joules as motion. Over the next few milliseconds that kinetic energy pours into the liner as it crushes, and it stays there — the foam's internal energy climbs to about 89 joules and never comes back down, because plastic collapse is a one-way street. The head keeps only a small fraction and rebounds gently. The liner, not the shell and not the head, does essentially all of the work.

How we kept it honest
A converged simulation can still be a confident wrong answer, so every number here is anchored. The drop speed is the closed-form free-fall value and the head mass is the standard 5 kg test value; the foam law was checked against its own column crush before it was trusted; and the helmeted solve conserved energy to within a couple of percent with negligible hourglassing and the contact interface visibly carrying load. The peak deceleration was read on two mesh densities and moved by about 10%, so we quote it as a band (230–250 g) rather than a single figure — comfortably under the CPSC 300 g pass line and right at the EN 1078 250 g line. As a sanity check before the solve, a one-line constant-stress hand-calculation (plateau stress times contact area over head mass) predicted a plateau near 100–150 g; the solved plateau came out a little above that, around 170 g. The bare-head peak is deliberately reported only as a same-speed comparison, not a precise value: a rigid metal test headform is harder than a living head, and once its thin scalp layer is crushed the solve is only trustworthy up to the moment the head stops.
Have a part that has to survive one bad moment — a package drop, a crash structure, a protective housing? The same explicit-dynamics workflow that read a helmet's deceleration pulse from first principles will show you how your design spreads a load, where it bottoms out, and how much energy it can eat before it does — on Ansys tools, validated against physics you can check, and built end to end by our applications-engineering AI. Rand Simulation is an Ansys (Synopsys) Apex Channel Partner. Let's turn your hardest "will it hold?" into a picture — that is innovation through insight.



