I could stop my post right there. What left is there to say?
The course wouldn't normally be hard at all - sure, there's the Clearspring Hill, but aside from that, there isn't much to hinder even a novice rider from going the full distance. Much of the ride is on level surface, interrupted by the occasional roller. Even those were spread quite far apart, enough so they really wouldn't be much trouble.
But there was the heat.
Our final SAG in this 77-mile odyssey (I know the Garmin doesn't match up - I forgot to start it after a stop) came at mile 25. That's right, 52 miles without an official SAG. To say this is the most egregious oversight on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year is an understatement of monumental proportions. It turned what was a difficult course into a downright death trap.
There were only two additional places past the last SAG to stop and get anything in the form of support - Freetown and Cortland. If you bypass Freetown because of the promise of a roving SAG (we did), that would take you to mile 63 before Cortland. Sadly, the roving SAG never appeared (at least, not until the last 5 miles of the ride).
By the time we hit Cortland, the temperatures were 104 and above, the pavement was hot, and the air was becoming hard to breathe. Allen had looked bad for some time, with his riding shorts heavily frosted with evaporated sweat/salt residue and drawn features. He was also nauseous. I played it off as the banana he'd eaten at the SAG, but the truth was he was entering heat exhaustion. He was in trouble.
I wasn't much better. I was frosted too, and though not nauseous, the strain was becoming noticeable. I was beginning to wonder how I could ever make it back to Brownstown, and then we saw it - the wonderful blinker light at Cortland. We were saved. A/C, cold drinks, and a chance to sit down for a bit and cool down.
Once inside, the full extent of my danger became clear. I twisted my torso, and cramped hard, a sure sign I was completely dehydrated. The second sign was it sounded to me like my head was stuffed into a bucket. Everything was muffled. Oboy. We had 22 miles to go. This was going to be tough.
I downed two 20 oz. Diet Cokes, ate a Milky Way, bought a Gatorade, and hoped for the best. Allen looked a lot better, if not fully recovered from the stop. Rand was starting to struggle though, with a couple of stingers running from inside the knee to the groin on both legs.
For a while, it went okay. Inevitably, the heat took over again, and it was clear to me I needed to find the most direct path back to my car. I warned the guys we had at least one more climb to accomplish - the run in to Ewing. We'd have to struggle up the hill no matter what. Thankfully we had a detour that shortened the course, because I would never have made the total distance. The bad part was, once we hit that final hill, I was so out of it I shifted up to the big ring, and I just about collapsed by the top of the climb. I lost the others at that point, never able to regain them. They looked back, disbelief on their faces. Believe it. The end had come.
I've never had such a hard time loading equipment into a vehicle, nor have I ever been so thankful for an extremely effective A/C unit on a car. I teetered on the edge of collapse as the car quickly cooled, frigid air blowing across my bare, sweat-soaked chest. It was touch-and-go, but I eventually came to the realization today wasn't my day to die.
Allen said we'd all meet at Dairy Queen. I debated for a second, but decided it was smarter to get something in right then rather than wait. I sat with Allen, Strunk, Rand, and Brent for maybe 20 minutes before I realized there was more trouble ahead, and I'd better get moving. There was the small matter of a 30-minute drive ahead, and who knew if I could hold it together long enough to make it.
I did, but when I got out of the car, and immediate and severe hamstring cramp sent me to the floor. There I was, garage door open, me on my back, right leg propped up against the rear tire, head laying on the lawnmower, and mouth wide-open in a shrill, school girl scream. The neighbors must have thought I was insane. I was too cramped to reach for my phone, couldn't call Leisa for help (and what could she have done anyway?), so I was stuck there until I could relax myself enough to sit, then stand. Somehow I managed to unload the car of the essentials, drug myself inside, showered, then hit the sack.
I drifted in-and-out of fitful sleep, trying to pay attention to the Tour replay (exciting day, BTW). I also finally got a report from Miller on his race (28th overall, bad swim, bad run, great bike), and I could only assure WinD that any finish today, under these conditions, was a great finish.
Today wasn't a confidence booster, but it certainly didn't destroy my confidence, either. It was a tough day, period. I ran yesterday afternoon, a mistake, but aside from that, it was dumb to try to ride the full distance. It's simple - no matter how poorly the event was supported, we have to accept the responsibility of lining up when conditions were dangerous. Thankfully, we all made it out alive. I won't push my luck like this again this summer, once was enough.
Sleeping in tomorrow.
Ride Data.
The course wouldn't normally be hard at all - sure, there's the Clearspring Hill, but aside from that, there isn't much to hinder even a novice rider from going the full distance. Much of the ride is on level surface, interrupted by the occasional roller. Even those were spread quite far apart, enough so they really wouldn't be much trouble.
But there was the heat.
Our final SAG in this 77-mile odyssey (I know the Garmin doesn't match up - I forgot to start it after a stop) came at mile 25. That's right, 52 miles without an official SAG. To say this is the most egregious oversight on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year is an understatement of monumental proportions. It turned what was a difficult course into a downright death trap.
There were only two additional places past the last SAG to stop and get anything in the form of support - Freetown and Cortland. If you bypass Freetown because of the promise of a roving SAG (we did), that would take you to mile 63 before Cortland. Sadly, the roving SAG never appeared (at least, not until the last 5 miles of the ride).
By the time we hit Cortland, the temperatures were 104 and above, the pavement was hot, and the air was becoming hard to breathe. Allen had looked bad for some time, with his riding shorts heavily frosted with evaporated sweat/salt residue and drawn features. He was also nauseous. I played it off as the banana he'd eaten at the SAG, but the truth was he was entering heat exhaustion. He was in trouble.
I wasn't much better. I was frosted too, and though not nauseous, the strain was becoming noticeable. I was beginning to wonder how I could ever make it back to Brownstown, and then we saw it - the wonderful blinker light at Cortland. We were saved. A/C, cold drinks, and a chance to sit down for a bit and cool down.
Once inside, the full extent of my danger became clear. I twisted my torso, and cramped hard, a sure sign I was completely dehydrated. The second sign was it sounded to me like my head was stuffed into a bucket. Everything was muffled. Oboy. We had 22 miles to go. This was going to be tough.
I downed two 20 oz. Diet Cokes, ate a Milky Way, bought a Gatorade, and hoped for the best. Allen looked a lot better, if not fully recovered from the stop. Rand was starting to struggle though, with a couple of stingers running from inside the knee to the groin on both legs.
For a while, it went okay. Inevitably, the heat took over again, and it was clear to me I needed to find the most direct path back to my car. I warned the guys we had at least one more climb to accomplish - the run in to Ewing. We'd have to struggle up the hill no matter what. Thankfully we had a detour that shortened the course, because I would never have made the total distance. The bad part was, once we hit that final hill, I was so out of it I shifted up to the big ring, and I just about collapsed by the top of the climb. I lost the others at that point, never able to regain them. They looked back, disbelief on their faces. Believe it. The end had come.
I've never had such a hard time loading equipment into a vehicle, nor have I ever been so thankful for an extremely effective A/C unit on a car. I teetered on the edge of collapse as the car quickly cooled, frigid air blowing across my bare, sweat-soaked chest. It was touch-and-go, but I eventually came to the realization today wasn't my day to die.
Allen said we'd all meet at Dairy Queen. I debated for a second, but decided it was smarter to get something in right then rather than wait. I sat with Allen, Strunk, Rand, and Brent for maybe 20 minutes before I realized there was more trouble ahead, and I'd better get moving. There was the small matter of a 30-minute drive ahead, and who knew if I could hold it together long enough to make it.
I did, but when I got out of the car, and immediate and severe hamstring cramp sent me to the floor. There I was, garage door open, me on my back, right leg propped up against the rear tire, head laying on the lawnmower, and mouth wide-open in a shrill, school girl scream. The neighbors must have thought I was insane. I was too cramped to reach for my phone, couldn't call Leisa for help (and what could she have done anyway?), so I was stuck there until I could relax myself enough to sit, then stand. Somehow I managed to unload the car of the essentials, drug myself inside, showered, then hit the sack.
I drifted in-and-out of fitful sleep, trying to pay attention to the Tour replay (exciting day, BTW). I also finally got a report from Miller on his race (28th overall, bad swim, bad run, great bike), and I could only assure WinD that any finish today, under these conditions, was a great finish.
Today wasn't a confidence booster, but it certainly didn't destroy my confidence, either. It was a tough day, period. I ran yesterday afternoon, a mistake, but aside from that, it was dumb to try to ride the full distance. It's simple - no matter how poorly the event was supported, we have to accept the responsibility of lining up when conditions were dangerous. Thankfully, we all made it out alive. I won't push my luck like this again this summer, once was enough.
Sleeping in tomorrow.
Ride Data.
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