10.8.2009 | 8:30 am
A Note from Fatty: Drew Carey has made a couple of impressive commitments:
- If he gets 100,000 followers on his Twitter account by November 9, he’ll donate $100,000 to the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
- If he gets 1,000,000 followers on his Twitter account by the end of the year, he’ll donate $1,000,000 to the Lance Armstrong Foundation.
So if you have a Twitter account, go follow Drew. And if you don’t have a Twitter account, go sign up and then follow Drew.
Oh, and you can follow me, too. Though I’ll sometimes forget about the existence of Twitter for days and not update, I will occasionally let something interesting slip in Twitter before it shows up in the blog.
Dear Fatty,
I just thought you should know that you are going to be heading out tomorrow for the 24 Hours of Moab. And while it looks like it’s just one race, it’s actually a lot more than that. It’s more like you’re doing six or seven races, since that’s how many times you’ll be going out. And it’s a big self-supported camping trip. And it’s in the sandy desert, which is really hard on bikes. And half of the race is at night, which means it’s going to be cold and dark part of the time.
And, in your case, the logistics are even more entertaining because you’ve got to arrange for what the kids are doing — going to Grand Junction to stay with Grandpa — in addition to all of your own stuff.
In short, Fatty, you’ve got a few things to consider for this event. I just thought I’d write and let you know what some of those things are.
How to Race
While your team will be racing for 24 hours, Fatty, you will not be. You will be racing for 12 miles, then having a longish break while your three teammates take their turns doing a lap.
So I hereby give you permission to open it up on the laps. Race each lap like it’s the only one you’re going to do.
However, I do not give you permission to try to ride Nosedive hill. Because while you think you are technically strong now, in reality you are not. And when you are in race mode, you are not thinking that way anyway.
In short, ride out of your noggin, but only to the extent that you remain upright.
What to Bring
And now we arrive at the important part of this letter, Fatty: the list of stuff you need to remember to bring. Your readers will very likely find everything from this point forward this either the most interesting and useful, or most boring and useless, post you have ever written.
Luckily for you, this is their problem, not yours.
For The Twins
The twins will be staying with Grandpa, who will be taking them fossil hunting, fishing, and to church. So:
- dresses + shoes
- hiking shoes
- socks: 3pr ea
- warm weather clothes
- cool weather clothes
- coats
- food: the weird stuff that they always want that Grandpa for sure won’t have on hand
- Art stuff for in the car
- Books for nighttime reading
- Brush, soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste
- PJs
Camp Stuff
You’ll be spending much more time at the camp than racing, so you may want to consider bringing the following items, which I am not listing in any particular order, since you have the least-organized mind in the whole world:
- A camp chair
- Hygiene stuff: think about others! Deodorant (!!!), toothbrush, toothpaste, about a million baby wipes, Purell by the quart, Listerine
- a blanket
- a sleeping bag
- Wood
- hats for sun, hats for cold
- Stuff to eat. Spam, maybe?
Bike Stuff
Since this is a bike race, you may want to bring your bike stuff.
- 2 bikes, both the Singlefly and the Waltworks. Aren’t you glad you have 2 high-end rigid singlespeeds? Redundancy is your friend.
- Lube
- Floor pump
- Lock and cable
- Tubes
- Tools
- Bottles. Lots and lots of bottles
Night Stuff
I know, Fatty, that you would prefer to do this 24 hour race as a noncontiguous pair of daylight races. This is not how it’s going to happen. You’re going to need stuff to help you see around.
- Princeton Tec light setup (which has arrived and is super-sweet. Thanks, Princeton Tec!)
- Headlamp
- Flashlight
- Lantern
Containers
You know what happens when you keep eating and changing clothes over and over during the course of a 24 hour period? You accumulate trash and stinky clothes, that’s what.
- Trash bags
- Dirty clothes bags
Cooking and Food Stuff
Your big secret this year — for how you’ve lost weight while still feeling like you have a huge amount of energy on the bike — is simple. Eggs. Specifically, lots of egg whites. You should probably post about how many egg whites you’re currently going through weekly and how you prepare them. Because they seem to be magic. Anyways:
- 2 Dozen Eggs
- Frying pan
- Pam
- Loaf of bread
- Salt
- Pepper
- Cholula
- Shot Bloks
- Peanut butter
- Nutella
- Knives, forks, spatula
- Water
- Carborocket
- Ice chests, duh
- bins
Clothes for On the Bike
What? Not riding naked? Chicken.
- Helmet
- Helmet cam
- Batteries for helmetcam
- Lots and lots of gloves, all different thicknesses. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to try to shift with those gloves on?
- Glasses: bring everything you own that says “Oakley” on it
- Under-helmet beanie
- Shoes: Specialized and Sidis
- Every jersey, jacket, vest, and pair of shorts you own, basically.
- Tights
- Socks: thin socks for day, wool for night
Clothes for Off the Bike
- Thermals
- shorts
- light shirts
- heavy shirts
- jacket
- coat
- pants
- sandals
- heavy shoes
- beanie
- hat for sun
You sure need a lot of stuff. Good luck on this race, Fatty.
Kind Regards,
The Fat Cyclist
Comments (74)
09.8.2009 | 6:42 am
A Note from Fatty: My friends Kenny and Brad raced the inaugural Park City Point 2 Point last Saturday as members of Team Fatty. They, um, well dominated the single speed division. Brad’s report is here (and well worth reading). Here’s Kenny’s report.
When I first started endurance racing there was always a good deal of travel involved. Races like the Leadville Trail 100, the Brian Head Epic and The Cascade Cream Puff, got me hooked on endurance mountain bike racing.
As these types of races became more popular, it became easier to stay closer to home. There was the e-100, the Perfect 10, and now the Park City Point 2 Point. I try to support local races when I can and it’s nice to be able to sleep in your own bed the night before. The PCP2P has taken all the good things from past Park City endurance races and has put together what I think is Utah’s premier endurance mountain bike event. Jay Burke and Shannon Buffeli have worked hard to put together a terrific race in a pristine mountain bike community.
Unspoken Competition
My buddy Brad and I have known each other for 8 to 10 years.
We’ve done countless races together and always finish close to one another. Sometimes he wins, sometimes I win. And when neither one of us wins, we always know which of us finished ahead of the other. We never really talk about it, but there is always an underlying competition and I know it’s discussed between our Core group of friends.
My number one race goal was to win the single speed division, which would also mean beating Brad. I know that Brad had similar aspirations, because he predicted it on his blog. After that, I wanted to be in the top 10 overall finishers and get the sub 8 hour medallion.
The Race
Brad and I lined up together about 25 places from the front waiting for Jay to yell go thru his megaphone.
As I always do at the starting line, I was running a check list thru my mind. Gels, tube, water, carbo rocket, tools, pump….
Oh crap, I had forgotten my pump.
I looked back to where the car was parked, wondering if I had time to go grab it. Just then Jay said “Are you ready for the inaugural Park City Point to Point? 20 seconds” it looked like I was going to have to do the first 35 miles without a bike pump. What seemed like 5 minutes later, he yelled “Go!” and we took off.
My race strategy has always been as follows: I shut my brain off and pedal has hard as I can. I don’t wear a watch or heart monitor. My brain can’t process any of that information. I just ride hard until my body decides the pace.
This time, there was only a short shakeout before we hit the singletrack.
I was able to move up a few spots, but because of the nature of the trail, I was unable to pass, which meant I was not riding at the pace that my body was telling me to go. I was getting a bit frustrated, especially when we would hit a steep hill and everyone in front of me would shift into their granny gear. I was able to move up a few more spots and caught a group of riders that were riding about the pace that I wanted to ride.
Important Realization
Then it hit me, all of a sudden: This is an awesome trail. I’m going to be riding 75 miles of some of the best mountain bike trails anywhere. So, I should just chill and turn my brain back on, just enough, to enjoy the experience.
I started to look around. Park City is a beautiful place for a race. There were dark clouds with blue skies poking through, and just a sprinkle of rain to keep me cool.
I looked back to see if I could see Brad. I couldn’t see him, but what I did see was the most incredible rainbow ever. I think it was actually three rainbows stacked on top of one another.
I was able to keep this frame of mind through most of the race. My legs felt great. I was enjoying the climbs. I was loving the descents. I was in a great mood. I even started doing something I rarely do during a race. I started talking to the people I was racing with. I was caught by a guy on a single speed and introduced myself. His name was Mike from Midway and he was wearing a tuxedo for a jersey.
This didn’t seem all that strange to me, because most of the guys I ride with all ride single speeds and have a great sense of humor. So, in my mind, single speed equals humor.
I rode with Mike for hours. I could tell he chose a really tall gear for this race. When the hills were long and steep he would get off and push. I’d get ahead a bit and then he’d catch back up on the flats. This happened over and over. He kept saying that his legs were cooked, but every time I looked back, there was that tuxedo jersey like a slap in the face. Not so funny anymore.
At mile 55, Mike and I left the Park city resort feed zone at the same time. My wife, who graciously agreed to spend her day supporting me, had let me know that Brad had been only minutes back at every aid station.
I knew the last 20 miles would start with a long sustained climb up the Spiro trail followed by lots of rolling flats along Mid Mountain with a descent into the Canyons ski resort. I knew that Mike, with his harder gear, would have a tougher time keeping up on the climb. I needed to put enough distance on the climb that he wouldn’t be able to catch up again before I descended to the finish. I also knew that Brad would be close behind.
It was now or never.
I shut my brain off again and started to hammer. Mike and I climbed together for a while. I could tell that he was getting off to push his bike more than I was on the steeper sections, so I tried to stay on the bike as much as possible. After what seemed like endless switchbacks, I could no longer see that tuxedo bobbing in the distance.
As the trail leveled out, I realized that my legs felt fresh. It was as if my bike was designed for the trail I was riding. I could power the ups and coast thru the downs, keeping my momentum fast. I knew that only two things could stop me from meeting my goal; a crash or a mechanical.
I was riding out of my head and pushing the envelope. I was trying to ride smart, but I knew I had to keep my speed up. On some rough sections of Mid-mountain trail, I hit some sharp boulders that I thought should have bent my rims or at the very least ripped out the side walls of my tires. On one hard bump, I felt my ti rail break under my saddle.
It made it awkward to sit and sometimes pinched the back of my thigh when I was descending, but I could tell it wasn’t going to be a deal breaker.
Result
Before I knew it I was on a trail descending down to the Canyons ski resort. I could hear the music playing and I could smell the burgers cooking at the finish. I had given it everything I had and all I had to do was coast down to the finish.
I came up to a fork in the trail with a couple of volunteers standing near. One way led down towards the finish and the other turned upwards to an unknown climb. It’s amazing the change of emotion that hit me when they pointed to the direction that I was supposed to go.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
I really thought they were just playing a joke. I was waiting for them to say, “Just kidding. Go that way, the finish is just minutes away.” But, they didn’t and I kept going, limping along, swearing under my breath.
After fifteen minutes of pure hell, I was on that down hill trail and I knew my race was coming to an end. I had held off Mike and Brad as I coasted on to the pavement and across the finish line. I was done.
I had ridden 75 miles and climbed over 14,000 feet, all on the best trails Park City has to offer. My finish time was 8:13 and I was 14th overall, once you subtract the duo teams.
I took first in Single Speed, Brad took third. Team Fatty owned the day.
If anybody asks me, “What trails did you ride at the Park City Point 2 Point?” my response will be, “all of them”.
As for Elden’s dilemma about getting some color on his pasty white shins, I have my own solution… dirt.
PS: Thanks again to Jay and Shannon for putting on a terrific race. It will be on my calendar for years to come.
Comments (35)
08.26.2009 | 11:56 am
I want to start today’s post by saying that I had nothing to do with how well-cared-for and organized Team Fatty was for this event. That is all thanks to Team Fatty-Philly’s fearless co-captain, Jen. She put hundreds of hours into making it easy and fun for us all to get together, get to the start line, and hang out.
So let me echo what I have heard many, many members of Team Fatty-Philly say: Jen, you are awesome. Thank you so much.
And now, here’s my report of the day.
The Ride to the Ride
Team Fatty-Philly met at a hotel near the venue, to make parking and getting to the start line a little bit easier. I wanted a chance to hang out with team members, so I came down a little bit early.
Which all went fine, until about three minutes before it was time to go. Then my “pre-race purge reflex” kicked in, which I do not want to detail too thoroughly. Suffice it to say that just before any major ride or race, my body instinctively knows that it ought to get rid of anything it doesn’t need to carry.
And in short, by the time I got back down from my room to the parking lot, everyone was waiting for me. They gave me an ovation, which — considering what I had been doing and the fact that I was currently holding up 100+ people — was probably not deserved.
So we rode the five miles together, following our very own pace car.
Even as we did this mellow-paced, low-to-no-effort ride, I thought to myself, “I am not going to want to have to tack this on to my ride at the end of the day.”
We got to the gate with plenty of time to spare, so we had time to just mill around and talk before we could take our rightful spot at the front of the line.
Fool that I am, I stood up on top of a boulder and began to give a speech. Sadly for me, I had nothing to say. So I mostly just said, over and over, “Thanks everyone for coming out. It means a lot to me.”
Which everyone already knew, but it’s what I was thinking.
Oh, and I also stuck my arms out and waved my hands for applause a lot. This was surprisingly effective.
Oh, check out my right leg; the knee is still pretty swollen. It wasn’t hurting badly, though. Just a little bit stiff whenever I walked on it.
The Starting Line
I have to say, I loved having the biggest team at the LiveStrong Challenge. And I loved that everyone knew who we are and were excited for us. And I really, really loved that we got to be the team at the start of the line, with 6000 people behind us.
(Click here for a large version of the above picture)
The start time was delayed a bit, which gave me a chance to get a photo with Ethan Zohn, the winner of Survivor Africa. He was doing a shorter run since he’s currently in chemo treatment, but he says next year we should count him in to be in Team Fatty.
Then I talked with a reporter from the local NBC affiliate. We talked for about five minutes, from which they used a sentence fragment. Yes, not even a full sentence, where I explained what “Fighting like Susan” means, just the part where I mention she passed away recently.
I’m not happy about that, but that’s the way it goes. You can find the segment here.
My Plan
As we were waiting for the start, I told the team my ride plan for the day. Go out fast for a little while, just to see if I can stay with the police escort for a while. Then I’d hang out at the first rest stop for a while and just cruise the rest of the day, riding and talking with anyone who would put up with me.
Then we counted down the seconds and off we went.
And something happened to me. Namely, I felt an incredible rush of adrenaline and a strong aversion to giving up Team Fatty’s lead position.
So, along with about five other Team Fatty riders, I rode out of my skull, off the front and pulling anyone who could follow. My knee was sore at first…and then, magically, it wasn’t.
Almost before I knew it, there was the first rest stop. The one I said I was going to stop at and hang out for a while.
But I hadn’t been counting on being not just near the front, but at the front.
I just couldn’t make myself get off that train.
So I kept going, riding with the fast guys, and feeling nigh indestructible. I passed the place where you have to decide whether to ride 70 or 100 miles. My leg felt great. I was at the front of the lead pack. Of course I was going 100 miles.
And then, about thirty miles in, I faded. Hard. It was remarkable, really, how fast I dropped back. There I was, actually taking my turn at pulling the group, then I dropped back, and suddenly I couldn’t hang anymore.
I looked back, seeing if there was another group I could glom onto.
There was nobody.
So I pulled over to the side of the road and had a snack until someone else from Team Fatty rode up, and we rode together to the next aid station.
So Beautiful
I should say that my expectations for the Philly ride and route couldn’t have been more wrong. Specifically, I had expected that the weather would be miserable, based on the fact that the weather for the two days prior had been rainy and miserable.
Instead, the day was warm — but not unbearably hot — with declining humidity and a nice afternoon breeze.
Also, I expected that the route would be through an urban jungle. Instead, it was through the countryside, alongside beautiful old farms and 17th-century cemeteries, and through countless tunnels of dense trees.
And, most importantly, I thought the ride would be relatively flat. But it was not. No sir, it was most definitely not flat. Hills never lasted long — a few hundred feet — but they were steep and frequent. And since my whole climbing technique revolves around finding a climbing groove, these hills punished me. Punished me hard.
On one of them, I saw the devil. I rode by him, putting out a fist for a fist bump, and he acted like he was going to give me one … and then pulled away at the last moment, cackling evilly.
It was one of the most awesome moments of the whole ride.
Later, at the finish line, I got a photo with him.
You can see that in this photo I haven’t quite forgiven him, yet.
The People
What was really great about this ride — this whole event — was the people. Team Fatty was just incredible. I don’t know how many times I heard “Go Team Fatty” yelled out from the side of the road.
Or how many signs.
Others were incredible too. I’m sure that people who have done this kind of event a lot get used to it, but to me the whole unity of purpose combined with the celebration of having done something good really made the whole day feel important and special.
I rode a good chunk of the day alongside Chris Carmichael, who attends many of these LiveStrong Challenge rides. I think that having the honcho of CTS and a blogger called Fatty might have caused a tear in the fabric of time and space, but he was still a good guy to ride and talk with.
As the 100-mile course merged back with the 70 and 45 mile courses, I started coming across more Team Fatty members. As they passed me or I passed them, the greeting was always the same: “TEAM FATTY!”
I never ever ever got tired of that.
And then my 100 miles was up. I don’t believe I have ever felt so good at the end of a century, nor has a century ever flown by so quickly.
And for the first time ever, I wished for more.
The Finish
After the ride, I hung around the finish line, wanting to thank and congratulate Team Fatty members who finished after me. It was all I could do to not give them all a big hug, I was so excited to see so many of us finishing the ride, having accomplished so much.
And I got lots and lots and lots of photos with Team Fatty riders, all of them looking pretty much like this:
After a while, though, my effort started to catch up to me, plus I was still in an increasingly icky-feeling pair of bike shorts. I bolted back to the hotel, got something to eat, changed into clean clothes, and got back to the finish line.
I’m sure I missed seeing quite a few Team Fatty members cross the finish line, but I kinda had to, or I’d have fallen over. And probably gotten a weird fungus on my butt.
Wrapping up, LiveStrong Philly was an incredible celebration of having done something good — raising a lot of money to fight cancer.
Count me in for 2010.
PS: Jason Crane has a great list of other people’s photos and stories from the event. I’ve gone and read every one of them. Check out his list here. (And thanks, Jason!)
PPS: Almost all of the photos you see in this post come from Kevin, who spent his whole day photographing Team Fatty, from the start line to the road to the aid stations to the finish line. Thanks, Kevin! (Check out all his photos from the day here)
PPPS: Thanks to everyone at the LAF, not just for the day-to-day work they do in the fight against cancer, but for putting on a really uplifting event. Special thanks go to Colleen and AnneMarie, who helped me in too many ways to even start mentioning, because they’d get all bigheaded and demand raises and stuff.
Comments (69)
08.18.2009 | 11:18 am
Now that the dust has settled on the 2009 Leadville 100, I’ve had time to gather my thoughts, as well as some additional interesting photos. I present them now for your consideration.
Cause of Crash Comes to Light
In my description of my crash, I didn’t give anywhere near enough credit to John, the race volunteer who came and got me. In addition to picking me up, hauling my bike to the medic tent, letting me burn through about half his yearly minute allotment on his phone, letting me wear his coat, and staying with me even after I was in the medic tent, John — at my request, because even through the pain and shock I knew I’d want a photo of this for my blog — took a picture of where I crashed, and then emailed it to me:
The skid mark in the wet gravel on the shoulder gives you a pretty good idea of the last thing I saw before I started ragdolling down the hill: trees and rocks.
What is even cooler about John, though — and I didn’t expect this of him — is that he later went back to take some more pictures and to look for my glasses.
This, folks, is the view back to the road from where I landed:
This really helps explain why I’m so black and blue all over right now, but for the longest time I couldn’t help but wonder: why did I crash? It just didn’t make any sense. I’ve made it down that road just fine literally a dozen times.
And then I got this photo in the mail from someone who just happened to be going by — and coincidentally photographing — the site of my crash a mere instant before I wrecked (click for larger view):
Now it all makes sense. Louis Baker was at it again! I knew this wreck couldn’t be due to my own clumsiness.
Oh, Louis, why do you hate me so? Why?
How My Equipment Fared
Many people expressed concern over my well-being when I crashed. Others, however, expressed concern over my bike’s well-being. Which means my crash was a useful device for separating the hardcore cyclists from the rest of us.
Basically, I do not yet know how my bike fared. Apart from a torn-up saddle and torn-up grips, the bike looks fine. But I’m having Racer take a good hard look at the frame, and will get back to you.
I can tell you about how some of my other stuff did, though.
- Gloves: My beloved Specialized BG Ridge Gloves took the fall without taking a lot of damage — just a few tiny rips in the back of the gloves. The fact that I have only superficial cuts (albeit lots of them) on the backs of my hands tells me they did as good a job of protecting my hands as a mesh backing can.
- Bib shorts: My current favorite pair of bibs is a pair of Descente Stratas. In fact, I’m a big fan of Descente shorts in general — maybe enough to write them a love letter at some point. These bibs now have several small rips in them, each of which corresponds to a bruise and cut on my body.
- Camelbak Podium Bottle: The only kind of bottle I use anymore are the Camelbak Podium bottles. These things are so great. But apparently, they’re not designed for high-speed crashes:
Yep, the bottle actually tore nearly completely apart at the lid. How about that?
Lance-Meets-Fatty Update
Despite multiple attempts, Lance has still never successfully managed to meet me. He keeps calling and calling, and frankly the email just doesn’t stop. I keep agreeing to meet him, and then I totally bail, usually with some kind of lame excuse. Kind of mean of me, really.
However, I’m extra-super-happy to announce that my brother-in-law Rocky, after rescuing my Oakley Jawbones last Saturday, actually rode with Lance as he finished the St. Kevins climb.
I understand Rocky was giving Lance some tips on how to ride Leadville one-handed. Wearing jeans. On a forty pound bike.
Regrets and Thanks
Only the day after the race did I find out what laid in store for me if I had managed to stay on my bike. Namely, other riders told me about the huge outpouring of support they got when people saw their Fat Cyclist jerseys. And there were signs. And cowbells galore.
I suspect that if I had ridden the whole race, I’d have been so choked up the whole time that I would have finished with a terrible time.
To those of you who took the effort to come out and support me, only to have me crash out before I could even get to the first aid station, thank you. My clumsiness doesn’t negate your awesomeness.
And to my friends and family (both the family who came to support me and the family who stayed behind to take care of my kids): double thanks. You made my Leadville weekend feel downright normal and fun, which is exactly what I needed.
Comments (82)
08.15.2009 | 6:04 pm
This really was unlucky 13 — my 13th Leadville 100 — for me. I can no longer say I’ve never DNF’d out of a race.
And right now, I have to admit I’m taking turns pitying myself and considering the fact that I’m lucky to be alive, much less only mildly injured.
Here’s what happened.
Climbtastic
I started the race feeling fine — healthy, excited, ready to race.
And then the climbs started and I felt really fantastic. I passed people by the dozens, quickly and without special effort. I got to the top of the first big climb — St. Kevins — in what felt like very good time.
Feeling fast and invincible, I started the 4-mile paved downhill. Like most of the people around me, I was going what felt like 30-35mph.
I was flying, and feeling great.
Crash
And then I was suddenly at the outside edge of the apex of a right-sweeping bend. On a wet road. at top speed.
And I was pointed off the embankment.
I grabbed two handsful of brake, but it didn’t do me much — if any — good. I flew off the embankment, and had one very clear thought as I launched into the air:
“This is how I die.”
The next moments were chaos and pain. Crashing, tumbling, and sliding. And then to a stop.
Here is the view from the road of what I crashed down. Rocky is standing approximately where my bike and I came to a rest.
That’s about 40 feet.
The reason I have this photo is because my sister Kellene and Bro-in-Law Rocky went back later to see if they could find my new Oakley Jawbones. Amazingly, they did:
Considering Rocky and Kellene had nothing to locate my glasses by but my addle-brained description of where I went down and a skid mark going off the road, I’m incredibly impressed (and grateful) they found those glasses.
But now, back to my tale of misery.
Lying in the Rain
I came to a stop on my back, with the most immediately intense pain coming from my right hip — though my right knee won the prize for bloodiest injury. I was both amazed to be conscious, and certain that I had better stay still, since I must have broken most everything.
I started yelling, not wanting to be left down there alone, because I didn’t think I could get back up to the road on my own.
Kevin, a guy in a Racers Cycle Service jersey, immediately stopped, yelled at me to not move, and worked his way down to me.
Over the next twenty minutes, Kevin wrestled my bike back to the road, gave me his vest to help me stop shaking so violently, and yell at other racers to go get a medic for me.
Meanwhile, it started to rain. Good and hard.
After a while, the pain in my hip receded enough that I thought I could try sitting up. That worked out OK, so I went ahead and tried to stand up.
at That didn’t work out so well. Immediately dizzy, I sat back down.
Five minutes later, I tried it again. This time, it worked. I was able to put my weight on my right leg. That was a huge relief — maybe I wasn’t as badly busted as I originally thought. I went ahead and climbed back to the road.
Finally, I was able to persuade Kevin to continue on and do his race — hopefully, even with the half hour (Or more? Hard to say, since I had no watch with me) he had spent with me he was still able to have a good race.
And then I stood in the rain for twenty minutes or so, soaked, freezing and shivering. And inspecting myself to see where else I was hurting besides my hip and knee. Here is the list I came up with:
- My hands were cut and bleeding in multiple places
- My left arm hurt
- My lip was cut
- My neck hurt
- The small of my back hurt. A lot.
The Medical Tent
John, a race volunteer, came and picked me up in his truck, and loaned me his down jacket. I have never been so grateful for warmth, ever. He then gave me a ride back, telling me that once we got into cell phone range, I should call my crew.
But I don’t have anyone’s number memorized. Just my home phone. So I called home, told my sister Lori to give me Kellene’s number, and then got ahold of Kellene and told her I was enroute to the medical tent.
And then, at the medical tent, I surprised everyone. They had not expected customers so early. They got me a cot together, sat me down, and poked and prodded me. No guarantees, I was told, but it seems like I didn’t have any breaks. And I didn’t need stitches.
Yes, somehow I did a high speed crash down an embankment loaded with boulders and trees, and walked away.
So, really, I shouldn’t complain. I should be glad to be OK. And I am.
But look at my face (and hand) as I started making my way back to the hotel.
That’s the face of a guy who had a pretty bad day.
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