It was then straight into riding and making up for a few miles short the previous day, following the road out of the town towards Kremmling followed the Colorado River and a single track rail line, against the perfect blue sky, temperatures around 65 degrees, clear thin mountain air everything seemed perfect.
And then, just as you think you're getting a break, facing into a good (but tough day of riding) you get the low punch, headwinds around 20 mph, immediately after Kremmling. It was torture, mile after mile after mile after mile of agony. Days earlier, through Kansas, riding the flats in a cross & tail wind was effortless, around 26mph, now it was down to the last available gear to just ride at around 10mph, mile after mile after mile. If I'd have written this Blog Post earlier it would have been very different, the day has mellowed some very dark moments. After riding so many miles to get to this point, with all challenges along the way you just want a break. It didn't happen. Even the cars (not the trucks) seemed to drive closer, big wide open roads (Highway 40) yet still they seemed to come close, strangely Colorado seems to be the only State with 'cycling' signs that encourages consideration on the road, it was becoming the worst experience so far.
Everything combined, today turned out to be a dark moment, exhausted on so many fronts, you then ride at twice the effort for half the speed, for over 70 miles, riding over short rises in the road to see the same horizon, the same point at which the road disappears some 5, 10 or 20 miles into the distance, it is demoralising, nothing else, utterly demoralising. We'd taken the decision for the support car to follow on four hours after the riding started, it was a good opportunity for the driver, but out on the road, just riding the line, into the headwind gives you some dark thoughts when you're so tired. As with yesterday's Blog post, everything hurts, I mean everything, today brought the added surprise of nose bleeds, there can't be much else to kick in, I put it down to altitude and fatigue, no real idea why but it seemed plausible. In my head I gave up today, gave up big time, the relentless headwind was, to a voice in my head, the final straw, you look at the distant horizon over and over again, imagine the agony and ask yourself over and over, why put yourself through so much pain, you swear at yourself, you swear at cars, you swear at anything, this is just how it is, it is pain beyond whatever you could imagine. As one of the earlier, if not the first Blog post, quoted 'sometimes the heart has it's reasons the head knows nothing of' (this is a very famous quote in cycling) and this is perhaps the only thing that keeps you going, the heart tells you to just keep pushing on, to keep focusing on the outcome that will benefit others and to keep supporting the people that have played such a big part in making this challenge come alive.
The dark moments stayed, in fact all day, riding on past Whiteley Park Resevoir, a strange oasis in the middle of what felt like a green desert, and onto the tortuous climb of Rabbit Ears Pass, which unbeknown to me until reaching the summit was another milestone point, the Continental Divide, the line where more than cyclists head West, or East.
An equally long descent into the town of Steamboat Springs meant re-uniting with the support car and a visit to Ski Haus, a shop selling a hiking and cycling gear. The main purpose was to buy a gel over-saddle, this is how bad the pain is. The shop gave good advice but no over-saddles on the basis that they would slip or add to the damage and pain already caused.
Back into the support car to drive out of town and beyond the limit of the town's main highway system, and then back on the bike, to continue the long dark miles. The State border line between Colorado and Utah was passed just after the town of Dinosaur, our original destination. But to make further progress we drove a few miles onto Naples, our new overnight stop. To add to the low feelings throughout the day, riding into what felt like a deserted and better-days-gone-by sort of town was a greeting by two rather broken, out dated, vandalised half size plastic dinosaurs on the roadside entry to the town. For some reason your head expects, or wants some sort of greeting for all the effort and pain, yet you find yourself greeted by two plastic dinosaurs, everything becomes an added challenge!
Somewhere deep down in all of this darkness, there must be a light that keeps you going, it isn't about cycling, that disappeared days ago. We had no idea about where our accommodation was to be last night nor the sign out front, but maybe that sign is a little reminder, travel light, live light, find the light?
Tomorrow will hopefully be a better day. Still on the road and still pushing on, the heart has it's reasons the head knows nothing of!
No comments:
Post a Comment