Day 2...Separation Anxiety

Early on today, I decided I am not a huge fan of riding  through rain.  It rained yesterday, but somehow today was different.  Mile after mile of humidity, mist, and pouring rain, complete with limited visibility and darkness.  Most of the ride I couldn't tell whether I was wet from the outside in (rain) or the inside out (sweat).  Add to that lots of traffic on the two way highways and steep climbs and descents as well as my somewhat irrational but still strong fear of hydroplaning and wiping out, and it made for a harder second day than the first.

We started out from the town of Anacortes, weaving through a residential area on a series of roads that seemed to go up, up, up endlessly.  I remembered from driving the course back in June that the first half of the day had lots of climbs, but did not make detailed notes about where they were.  About midway through the day we descended into Oak Harbor and had lunch at an Applebee's. In my notes, I had written "Hill!!!!!" right after Oak Harbor.  Sure enough, we turned right onto Highway 20 and a tall winding hill was there.  Ah ha, I thought, there's the hill I referenced.  Halfway up, we turned right onto Scenic Heights Road, and saw a huge hill up in front of us.  Ohhh, I thought, that must actually be the hill I noted. We pedaled another half mile and turned again to a monumental hill.     Wait...THIS must be the hill.... And so it went for some time after that.

Before we started the ride, Fred and I talked about getting whistles to wear.  Due to the heaviness of traffic and narrowness of the shoulders, we knew we would be riding mostly single file.  Whistles would be an easy way to signal needing to stop, or "car backs" or other issues.  We never did get them, though... Didn't find any at the few stores were we remembered to look.

We discovered today just how helpful they would have been.  About 6 miles out of Oak Harbor, Fred was riding ahead of me on Highway 20.  He passed a Y intersection, and when I came to it, I saw the road name and realized right away that we needed to turn there.  I unclipped myself and stopped, calling and calling Fred's name as loudly as I could.  But since we were riding into the wind, there was no way he could hear me, and he continued pushing up a large hill until he disappeared over the horizon.

I called Nancy (thank goodness for Nancy!!!) and told her what had happened, explaining that she should go get Fred, and I would continue along the correct route.

For 10-15 minutes it was heavenly.  I rode along the water enjoying the scenery at my own pace.  Then I started climbing another steep, winding hill, and all of the sudden, my gears locked and the chain fell off.  Before I realized what was happening, my bike lost its momentum and stopped, and I was still clipped into my pedals.  I couldn't put my foot down or do anything to salvage the crash.  Over I went, into the road...very rough road, at that.  It took me a few seconds, lying there, to assess whether I was broken or just bruised.  My next immediate panic was disentangling myself from the bike and getting out of the road before I got run over by a car.  As I stood up and started to examine my bike, the pain in my body was enough to nauseate me.  Within a minute, Fred and Nancy drove up.

Fred jumped out of the car, and I explained what had happened.  He set about fixing the chain.  I watched for a minute, but then excused myself to go sit in the back of the truck to regain my bearings. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Ow.

(A later examination revealed lots of bruising and scrapes with some gravel mixed in...lovely.)

Nancy took us to the top of the hill I had been climbing and we got back on our bikes, me quite gingerly.  We began riding, again in wet weather, and as we were climbing into Coupeville, I called to Fred to stop.  We pulled over to the side of the road and I started to cry.  The adrenaline had finally worn off, and I was now aware of just how much I hurt.  As is our custom, Fred just quietly let me
cry, and after five or six minutes, I took a deep breath, said, "Okay", and we we on our way again.


I loved Coupeville for two reasons.  First, it was a really cute Victorian town with darling houses, gardens and shops.  Second, it was the last little town before the ferry, which was situated right next to Fort Casey.  I was so glad to get off my bike, although by then I felt like I was soaked clear through my skin to my very bones.

It occurred to me at some point that this ride has reduced my entire existence to four constant quests: calories, hydration, getting dry, and relief from any one of a given series of aches and pains.  So much for my lofty ideas of life revelations and the rebirth of my creativity!

But... I am doing it.

Thanks, blog.