Day 17: The broke spoke...part deux

88.46 mi (out of 112) max 37.5 mph 8:17.28 avg. 10.6 mph

Not only do I believe that Wyoming exists, it is also tangible evidence that evil is present in this world.

I think this is the first day that I've really wanted to go home. I mean, I've missed Madison, and I've missed my friends, and I've missed kayaking, but today just made me want to curl up into a ball and teleport myself back to Barre. (Whose idea was this silly ride anyway?)

The very first thing that happened to me this morning was that the pump ate the valve stem on my tube, before I even left camp, bringing my flat tire count to three. I suppose that it was my fault for using the pump that doesn't really work...my bad. Still, I thought that I got out of camp at a reasonable time, in the middle of the pack. Ha. By mile 25, 38 riders were ahead of me. There are 39 riders. A little while after that first water stop (and Ucross, an artists' colony with a population of 25), I passed Eric K, whose legs had turned into oatmeal (although they looked ok to me). He caught up to me in time for me to witness his tire go flat, but he waved me on.

So, I was riding along and noticed that my rear wheel felt weird and really draggy...after my first broken spoke episode, of course, any weirdness is reason for an automatic stop-and-check. Sure enough, another stupid spoke had popped. I didn't feel nearly as despondent as I did last time though - my odometer read 42 miles. According to the DRG, there'd be a cafe in a mile. Alan had passed me about 5 minutes earlier - chances would be excellent that either he or another staff member would be there. And even if they weren't, Eric would be passing me MOMENTARILY, and he could get word to someone up ahead (since my cell phone had only analog signal). I started walking towards town.

Sure enough, Eric passed me, got word to Alan, and Alan's now-familiar blue van pulled into a small turnout not too far from where the initial incident had occurred. In no time, Alan fixed my spoke and I was back on the road.

For an hour.

I was feeling pretty good, despite the facts that I was now significantly behind everyone else and there was a headwind starting to pick up. Even the climbs weren't bothering me too much. It was great, knowing that I was still riding despite having had some mechanical issues.

If I were a faster rider, perhaps I'd have been able to make up the time that I'd lost. Or maybe the staff wouldn't have worried about where I was - they'd know that I'd be able to make up that distance by just riding faster. Unfortunately, that's not the case. I've demonstrated time and again to myself and staff that my pace is my pace and I am virtually incapable of hammering it out when there are uphills or headwinds. I was just beginning a downhill when Alan stuck his hand out of the window, motioning for me to stop. He told me that I was getting bumped up because the staff resources were being stretched too thin - meaning that the riders at the head of the pack were too far ahead of the people - person - at the back, and the staff couldn't meet all of our needs. Therefore, it was necessary to sag me. Additionally, there was some construction that all the riders needed to portage around, so the vehicles were needed for both shuttling and water stops on the hot and windy day.

I tried not to cry, but that worked for about 3.2 seconds...and once the floodgates opened, I couldn't stop them. I fully understood the decision of the staff. It is their job to keep us riders safe on the roads, which includes proper hydration and transport across impassable sections of the route. They can't do that when there's a 50 or 60 mile spread between first and last riders, it's a hot, dry day and there's a nasty, 10 mile stretch of torn up road. I was most frustrated with myself. Why am I so slow compared to all these other people? Am I not strong? Am I only made for downhills (both on land and on the river - although water presents fewer uphill opportunities)? Why can't I just go faster? People tell me not to worry about it, that I'm finishing the route...but it DOES matter to me. I WANT to be able to keep up with other people. I WANT to be able to ride in a paceline. Not necessarily with the people who finish the 100-mile days in under 4 hours...but at least be able to keep up with other riders, on both the downhills AND the uphills (which is where everyone typically passes me). I WANT to ride with people without feeling like they are holding back so that Chris can keep up.

After the construction, we were dropped off on regular pavement...and the fun began. The headwind had picked up to a hurricane gale force . The closer we got to Gillette, WY, the more rolling the hills became. If I didn't pedal as I went downhill, the wind would have pushed me to a standstill...and maybe even back up the hill. The wind was oppressively hot, not unlike going into Vantage, except that the grades of the hills weren't enough to offset the strength of the wind burning into my lungs. Everyone from the group that had been shuttled across the construction with me had long taken off into the distance, which was probably just as well, since I was virtually inconsolable. Every time I rounded a corner, I'd hope to see something other than another hill, each one larger than the last. All I could do was face the wind, struggle up each incline, and wail. I'm not sure that any one of those things did me any good.

I did stop briefly at the Eagle Butte Mine - check out the size of the tire that they use in the mine trucks, compared to the size of my bike.

Coming into the city, the final group that had been shuttled across the construction caught up to me. At that point, the salt deposits on my lenses prevented me from seeing street signs, so it was good to follow other people. Plus, the other riders & the staff didn't make a big deal about my coming into camp. Some thought that I'd actually ridden with the group through that headwind. I gathered my things, and Brian grabbed my bike for me and showed me a shady spot under a tree. I dropped in the grass, and didn't move for a long time. A couple of people came over, including Christy. She told me that I was strong for fighting that headwind - she'd had a total of four flat tires that day...and almost everyone had ridden in with someone else. It didn't help that I told myself that if I'd been strong, I'd have been able to make up the 15 miles that I'd been sagged, or that if I were stronger I COULD have ridden with another person. I know that everyone had a rough day today.

Finally, I built up enough motivation to set up my tent. Remember that headwind I was talking about? It hadn't gone away...perhaps it would have been better to put a string (cable?) on the fabric and just fly a tent-shaped kite. Bob came over to help me batten down the hatches, and I crawled inside my blue cocoon. Although there were several offers for dinner, my body and mind really needed to be separate from other humans (I missed Madison!), and once inside my tent, I slept - on the ground, without the air mattress. At 8:30, I managed to drag myself over to the community center, where the showers were housed. By 9:00, I was back in my tent, on my air mattress this time...but not for long. The very coolest thunderstorm had developed, and several of us, including Deb, Brian & Charlie, were treated to Nature's fireworks - lightning streaked across the sky and sometimes the thunder was right over us - very, very cool, and with only a few drops of rain! That might well have been the only good thing about the whole day.