MueckeRacing

The crew is slowly disbanding – Jim Reynolds left us three days ago aboard a bus, Jim Haltom bought the secondary van and is on his way back to CA, Crew Chief Alison had work in Pennsylvania last night, so only Dad and Brandon remain.  Sammi, Mom, Bob and Larina, as well as Natalie all came out here to Annapolis, and they too are on their respective journeys home.  Brandon, Dad and I will drive to Boston tomorrow to visit with Natalie and Tony and the boys, then B and I start our westward journey.  Been thinking about riding the divide east to west just for a diversion.

Of course a few more words about RAAM.  RAAM was never so much about the finish line as it was about the start line:  what belief in yourself does it require to stand on a start line in Oceanside and look east?  What training, what sacrifices, what help from others along the way will it take to believe you can stand there on THAT particular start line?  As a rookie rider with a rookie crew I knew our chances of success were slim – but in the end it wasn’t anything more complex than utter fatique coupled with sleep deprivation that stopped me.  All other “forseen” problems were conquered either by myself or by my crew.  So I cannot feel anything but happy to have made 2500 miles in one sitting.

Ok, enough of the waxing poetic.  Here’s the part you really want to hear:

Right out of the chute in CA I developed a nagging and time-consuming case of intestinal distress, followed closely by a heat-related stomach revolt.  Seems I could swallow nothing – even water was a chore to get down.  The poor day shift was stuck with having to watch me race full-tilt all day while my caloric consumption dwindled, then the night shift had the unenviable task of having to catch me back up once the coolness of the evening allowed my stomach to try and do some work.  Also out in the desert I was treated to a wonderful case of a three day bloody nose.  I think the searing heat of the desert caused the capillaries to seep blood, which became huge stalactites in my nose.  Wonderful.

The sleep deprivation first attacked my for real after descending off the divide.  I was in need of a quick nap to clear the cobwebs, so I laid down in the back of the van.  Unfortunately my knee got twisted up whilst I slept, and I was awakened by the pain.  Well, I don’t know too much about metaphysical realities and what not, but I’m pretty sure that parts of me were still off doing what they needed to do while my body rested, but the body was jerked awake prematurely.  This was the only time I was actually scared during RAAM – I was partly aware of what was going on, but mostly I was sure I had gone insane.  I kept asking what we were doing, and the crew calmly responded that we were heading for a hotel to warm up my knees in a hot shower and get some sleep.  Unfortunately what I was really asking was “what planet is this?  Who am I?  What is my quest?  What is your favorite color?”  What finally started to bring some sanity back to me was looking at the inside of my van that I had worked so hard on with all its shelves and drawers, etc.  Uncle Milt finally saved the day by telling me I was going to be all right as soon as I got some sleep.

I don’t think I ever got my sleep patterns merged back properly for the rest of the race – sometimes my mind would sleep, sometimes my spirit would sleep, and sometime my body would sleep, but never did all three rest at the same time.

The next really fun part came after slamming headfirst into Missouri:  Believe me, after the tailwinds in Kansas (Kansas had been my biggest fear, for I am not the greatest rider when it comes to headwinds) Missouri was a severe shock, with it’s never ending rollers.  No sense of rythm or pace, no way to spin out some miles without constantly changing power levels to accomadate the terrain.  Anyways,  what happened was a stupid mistake on my part:  I reached for a handoff from the van, but drifted too far over and hit the rumble strip..  It took my fatigued system a split-second too long to correct the mistake and I lost control of the bike.  I plunged off the shoulder down into the ditch.  I think I was very lucky:  the front wheel dropped out from under me so fast that I had no time to do anything but relax and await the inevitable, and I tumbled over and landed flat on my back.  I laid there for a few seconds to decided if I was ok, then slowly got up and sat on the shoulder.  We took inventory, and in the light of the van headlights did a thorough inspection of my helmet.  No cracks or scratches, so I had avoided hitting my head on the way over.  Determined not to let the incident reflect poorly on my crew, I simply got back on the bike, recollected my wits as I rode into the night, and didn’t look back.  I didn’t tell anyone later that I was coughing blood for about 10 hours after the crash.  Probably bruised my lung from the impact.  No worries.

There really aint that much more gore to tell of.  Saddle sores were never a big issue, my hands and feet held up well, though the palms of my hands developed some blisters, and my toes are still a tad numb.

Next post: the amazing things my crew and I saw and achieved in 2500 miles.