Thursday, September 10, 2015

Gravel Worlds 2015 Part 3

NOTE: In order to get up to speed on my 2015 Gravel Worlds adventures, see the links below. They're all equally exciting, but in chronological order.........a mind altering experience.

The things we'll do for a cool pair of socks.

Jim, Jamie, and I have just left the 85 mile check point/aid station. Our enthusiasm is at an all time low. Worse than this.

We have a 4 mile push South, and the wind, combined with over 6 hours of pedaling have taken its toll. The course turns East and we get a bit of a reprieve. At just over 7 hours of total time, and 96 miles, we roll into Roca, NE and find some shade beside the Roca bar. Jim's dealing with heat related nausea and we're hoping the rest stop will help him recover. 

In the 45 minutes we rest at the Roca bar, we see several riders come and go. Salsa rider Andrea Cohen, Seth Wood from Stillwater, and several more briefly visit with us. 

Jim has somewhat recovered and we're on our way over to Hickman. After a short train delay (the delay was short, the train, a-b-o-u-t average) we head East through town, battle a little Garmin vs. cue sheet discrepancy, then head North.

At 103 miles Jim announces that he still feels ill, and he's pretty sure he's gonna puke. Jamie and I recon a shaded area beside the road and we all lay in the grass a bit. 

Jim was correct.   He puked. 

More than once.    More than twice. 

For reference, it's best to let Jim himself describe as he did after his Ozark Trail 100 Mile Endurance Run.

"We finally made it ahead of everyone and then held it precariously for a few minutes, and then I was cooked. Waves of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks, and while I was able to hold it off for a minute or two, I eventually lost the battle and puked up the last thing I had eaten which was a mango buddy fruit. It’s unfortunate too because I really like them and it will now be a long time before I won’t gag at the thought of another. I'm always a little embarrassed when I throw up in front of someone else. Mainly because of the sound I make while I'm doing it. I call it scream puking. I try to restrain it and lose my cookies silently, like a gentleman with composure, but once it starts, I have absolutely no control whatsoever and it comes out more like a, "BLAAAAAAAAAAAA...(gasp for air)..HOOOAAAAAAAA." Only you have to imagine me doing it at the top of my lungs, and it goes on for a little while, or it least that is how it feels. Anyone within a couple of miles was probably wondering what animal was being tortured to death. Emily got to experience all my best sides in one night. Several hours after the mango incident I might have had a bout of diarrhea that she got to witness as well. Pacing can be a tough job. She took it all in stride like it was no big deal."
Jamie and I, we do what you do when your friend is puking along side the road in rural Nebraska. 

Pretend he's not with us.

Moments later Jamie notes that he's impressed with Jim's narration of the puking.

"BLAAAAAAAAAAAA.................(I think that was my last gel) HOOOAAAAAAAA.........(yep, there's the chia) BLAAAAAAAAA.......(what's our mph average down to?*)"

It sounded similar to this, right there at 00:21

We let Jim recover for at least 6 or 8 minutes before we lift him onto his bike and demand he pedal forward.

Another 5 miles and Jim is hit with more nausea. Jamie and I privately discuss the feasibility of dragging Jim far enough off the road that other riders wouldn't see him, later claiming he was fine, last we saw him. Finally, I convince Jamie to do the right thing and help him to the next aid station. 

Jim finds a hydrant along the road. The cold water helps him immensely. Ten minutes later we're moving again. I'm thankful. You know how hard it is to drag a body?

North of Bennett, NE around mile 112, we arrive at the farm aid station. Jim's feeling worse. He's in no condition to finish. The aid station happened to be staffed by some kind ladies with medical backgrounds. 

They're convinced Jim needs to go to the hospital. Jim persuades them to just let him rest a while. 

They made sure he had food and drink, along with a wet towel to get his core temp down. The staff at the aid station assured us they would take care of Jim and transport him back to Lincoln when they closed up shop.

Jamie and I set out to the finish.

It was only 38 more miles. How hard can it be.


*Complete lie, inserted for dramatic effect only. (This is the last one**)

**There will be several more.

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