I promised myself that if I ever started writing about my bowel habits it was time to hang up the pen.
However.
(Did you ever think the word "however" could be so terrifying?)
However. It's actually an integral part of the day, so if I leave it out I feel like you'll be messing something.
Er, I mean MISSING something.
So, I'm just going to make a simple statement and say that I had diarrhea. I can assure you that I won't use any adjectives (such as yellow) or any adverbs (such as explosively). Just the basic facts: I had a rough night. And the rough part wasn't over.
Cecil had said that he wakes up at 5:30 and he was as good as his word.
We loaded up our bikes and said our good-byes around 8:30. But not before asking him if I could have a roll of toilet paper.
Cecil is quite a character. I wish him well.
The road was wet.... It DID rain last night, as Cecil had predicted.
Klaus and I switched bikes for about fifty yards. I do NOT see now he rides that thing. In addition to the weight, the steering is WAY different. When you turn the handlebars nothing happens for a full three minutes. At speeds over 3 mph the front end shimmies enough so that you get a full upper body workout as well. Once we switched back, I felt like I was on a racing bike.
And yet, oddly enough, Klaus and I travel at about the same speed.
We stopped at the Truck Stop on I-10 to eat breakfast and stayed for more than an hour. Mostly I was just stalling because I didn't feel like riding. In SO many ways.
This guy seems to be holding his cramping abdomen, too.
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
One last trip to the restroom and we're off and running. (Klaus is off and I'm running)
You know what sounds REALLY good when you're having gastrointestinal discomfort?
Right! Beer!
Five miles up the road and it's time for the 13,000 kilometer beer.
When Klaus travels in other parts of the world he keeps his cyclometer on kilometers. In America, because of our maps and signage, he keeps it on miles. That's why kilometer number 14,000 slipped up on us without him having bought any beer for the occasion.
But wait! Good news! He still has the "training beer." He pulled it out and my bowels lurched. No beer for me this morning.
Still, we had some fun with the camera.
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
I guess my training will have to be temporarily postponed.
Here are some pictures taken along the way.
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
A friend we met along the way...
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
The day became overcast and we occasionally felt a drop or two of rain. We began climbing almost immediately after leaving the Truck Stop, and there wasn't a moment all day when we didn't have a headwind. Those things, combined with my abdominal cramping, made for a difficult day.
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
Toward the end of the day my morale was pretty low. More than once, I had to stop the bike, run over the railroad track (almost, but not quite out of sight), toilet paper in hand, and take care of some unpleasant business. What else are you going to do when you're on a bike?
The next-to-last time, a very close call, I dashed away from the road and out of sight.
What do you think happens when a passing car sees a guy sprinting away from the road, then hiding... a quick cellphone call and...
Do you remember how I told you that the Border Patrol were everywhere? While I was out of sight, a Border Patrol car pulled up beside Klaus and the guy inside asked, "Where's your partner?" Klaus pursed his lips and responded with a farting noise. The officer just laughed and drove away.
I'm glad to know our borders are safe from bikers with diarrhea. I feel much more secure.
I mentioned the headwind; I mentioned the overcast skies; I mentioned the uphill road; I THINK I might've mentioned the diarrhea. I didn't mention the secondary discomfort resulting from repeated bouts of expelling a Pop's Better Burger through xxx ... never mind, I promised I wouldn't. Nor did I mention how rough the road was that day. A bad combination.
Toward the end of the day, after making my last waddling jog to the other side of the tracks, I listlessly walked back up to my bike. Klaus was waiting patiently. I know I must've looked terrible... sunken, hollow eyes, ashen complexion, slack mouth, weak. One would've expected him to say something like, "I'm sorry you're not feeling well." Or, "I hope you get to feeling better." Instead, he looked at me with that big, dumb German grin and said, "How's the shitter?"
To some people, on the surface, that might seem a little.... oh, I don't know.... insensitive?
However, it was at that moment, paradoxically, that I knew Klaus was my friend. Sometimes you need someone to pat you on the hand and say, "Awwww... everything's going to be alright." Sometimes you need someone to say, "How's the shitter?"
A friend knows the difference.
My response to his question?
"Shitty," I replied.
We arrived in Van Horn after an excruciatingly long time. Today was not a fun day, but I got through it.
Sometimes that's all you can ask for.
58.39 miles (today's 58 miles were more difficult than yesterday's 72.5 miles)
10.2 average
26.5 maximum
5:41:02 time
987.1 total
Beautiful scenery, with railroad track in the foreground:
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| From Mark on a Bike 08 2 |
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