Getting to Colorado
The craziness with Johnathan didn't end with him getting shipped off to surgery. John had to be there a couple days to recover from surgery. He's fine, except for all the stitches and pain meds he's on. He's flying home from Colorado Springs, CO to Murphy, NC, as soon as possible.
So how'd we make it to CO Springs?? Well, to put it simply, we cheated... The nastiness happened on the 8th. I waited for the rest of the group to catch up until about 1PM on the 9th- laying around reading, catching up on push-ups, catching up on sleep, waking up to cheerleading practice 20 feet away, posting on le blog, etc.
I talked to quite a few people who helped us with the disaster. Jennifer, the EMT offered us the use of her house, Art offered to let us stay in his apartment, and John Gould (volunteer ambulance driver) offered to lift the kids from Garden City back to Leotia. A few more people came by just to see if everything was okay. It was kinda ridiculous how friendly and caring these people were. The maintenance guy (didn't get his name) offered to let us store equipment in the boiler room of the hospital.
When I went to meet the group, I ran into Blair and Osta riding eastbound from SF. We spent the rest of the day sitting around, halfway trying to figure out what would happen with John, Helen, and Sean, and the other half wasting time in the pool and on the park bench. We really couldn't do all that much, since Johnathan's ability to travel was kinda up in the air.
It was determined that we'd ride to Pueblo then hitch a ride to CO Springs to see Johnathan off, check out the superchurch they've got over there, and maybe climb Pike's Peak and otherwise enjoy the supposedly supercool city.
I was kinda stressed at this point. I had called Colin and Halley to see where they were at, but hadn't received a reply all day. I figured I would ride to Pueblo with the group, say fare thee well one last time, then ride off into the sunset.
To make matters much worse, I realized the pain that'd been bothering me for the past couple days was actually my Achilles tendon. Blair had the same problem a couple weeks ago, and her solution was a few overdoses of ibuprofen and a couple days of rest. I didn't have a couple days to rest, but I did cave in and go get some off-brand ibuprofen (Advil gives me some nasty chills). Blair's dad (doctor) says it will reduce swelling, speeding healing.
I was able to relax that evening. We had a little party on the picnic bench in the middle of the park. Nobody seemed to mind. Everybody went to sleep and carefully reminded themselves to stay at least 15 feet away from the shelter when they got up in the middle of the night to pee. I forgot, of course.
Some ridiculous winds woke me up a few times during the night. We woke on the 10th (the day we were supposed to be in Pueblo) at 8:00AM to 25mph winds coming out of the SW. Gusts at 30 mph or so. Wonderful. Nobody felt much like riding. With these winds, we'd be chugging along at 8mph at full steam. And we had 200 miles to Pueblo. Aaron checked the winds for the next couple days: same or worse, even at night. My Achilles was not feeling up to 200 miles of headwinds. Billy was in worse condition than me- knees and achilles.
Blair and Osta rode off to brave the winds. Blair offered me both of her knee braces in case I ran into more knee trouble down the road. I took one and left her the other. Thanks Blair!
At noon, after hours of indecision, it was decided that we'd have a race. Girls vs. Boys. Ride like mad, thumb a ride, hijack a plane, whatever. Whoever got there first would buy the other party drinks. We got into our huddles and schemed. We were going to split into 2 groups of 2 and hitch it.
Then I remembered John Gould's offer. I gave him a call, explained the situation, not really expecting him to be willing to make a 400 mile round trip for us, and he told me he'd be there in 10 minutes. I was hoping we could fit everyone in, but he said he only had room for 4. I rode down to the gas station where the guys were chomping on food and the girls were accosting pickup drivers. I heard Telula say "...suckers," and I half-laughed, half-cried for them.
Once everything was packed in, we headed down the street. John said, "you know, we could probably fit a couple more in here." We saw them turning the corner in front of us- rideless. After a little inexplicable hesitation, we drove up behind them, Aaron stuck his head out the window, and said "Hey guys!" Telula saw Aaron's grin, the bikes in the back of the pickup, and she gave us the finger.
After a little explanation and, again inexplicable hesitation, Becca and Telula agreed to take the ride.
It was insanely weird to to hurtle along the highway at 80mph without my helmet on. We passed up a few Trans-Am'ers We stopped at a gas station to fill up, and I helped push a van that had stalled out 12 feet from the pump. "Ethanol" said the driver.
Aparently, a lady at the counter called us cheaters. Aaron had sworn up and down that he'd never take a ride other than one directly North or South. No West miles. I didn't care. I don't care. I previously mentioned that I'd take a ride 100 miles over Kansas, no qualms about it. It's what my Achilles would have wanted.
Down the road, hills appeared out of nowhere, Pike's peak loomed in the distance, and my heart raced. John dropped us off at a gas station on the east side of town, where we filled up his Ram turbodeisel and thanked him profusely. He gave us 6 hours of his time, at the drop of a dime. Ridiculous.
After grabbing some eats and fixing my flat rear tire, we rode into town to check out a park that we hoped to camp in, and instead found a bunch of "NO CAMPING" signs and a bunch of guys on fixies racing around the velodrome. As we watched the race end, I checked my phone, and got a voicemail from Colin and Halley. They had lost their phone, and the only reason they were able to call me was that I had left my phone number in my last message. I talked to em, and they said they'd be in Howard, CO the next evening. That meant I had 150 miles to go the next day- through the Rockies, at altitude for the first time in my life, with a still swollen Achilles. Fun.
A funky guy named Tim on an old beat up Specialized rockhopper said hey and ended up leading us on a "shortcut" to downtown. Along the way, Telula flatted. It took 20 minutes to fix it as Tim tried to help out. Fixing a tire is a one man job. The other hands just collect brake dust. We finally got downtown, had an after-last-call Laughing Lab pint at a local brewery/ bar, then looked for a place to stay. Tim gave us all kindsa info, but we ended up taking the easiest suggestion and walking across the street to a church.
The church was right on main street, and we saw 4 raccoons sneaking around, but we halfway-hid behind a Jersey barrier, locked up bikes and put the food in a tree. The guys slept in the open while the girls set up tent.
I woke up that night to the sound of falling water, and Telula yelling, "NO! NO NO! NO NO NO NO!!!"
Next time I get a comp:
- What the heck happened to Telula
- Finding Howard
- Nearly getting hit by a dozen near idiots
AND HOLY MESS I GOTTA GET OFF IN 30 SECONDS OR THEY'LL TAKE MY TOES.
steven
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