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 Day of the HeroesBack to ...and we're off!By Daniel Lins - 2008-12-15
Welcome to Saturday afternoon: I’m riding head into the rain, cranking slowly in a gear that’s really too high for this speed. Even with the high winds blowing in my ears, I can hear my bike creak with the excessive force of each pedal-stroke. We’re carrying too much weight, and these hills accentuate that fact. The wind blowing against me doesn’t help either. But I know I can’t shift to a lower gear, because the higher RPMs hurt my knees. I take solace in knowing that I’m cutting the wind for the guys who are following close behind me, "drafting." I hope that soon Dan will take my place on point, breaking the wind for all of us. I remember the last time he did it, and what a relief it was. Another truck barrels by, bulldozing through the heavy rain. This time, I’m not paying attention very closely, and it whizzes within inches of my left elbow. Somewhere in my exhausted brain I recall Chris shouting "Truck!" but it hadn’t registered in time. My bike careens into the low pressure wave left by the truck and I overcorrect, veering onto the rocky shoulder. The whole caterpillar-like train behind me falls into chaos as the rest of the team tries not to crash into me. A few rough pedalstrokes and we’re back on the road again, pumping in unison as one team. I can hear Chris grumbling in the back, and Mike’s placating response, but my brain is at its limit and can’t decode the sounds. Out of the blue, I remember that we haven’t eaten in 5 hours. I do some hasty calculations with my starving brain, knowing that we NEED to make it to the next town. Today has been our longest day yet, and we’re running low on food and water. How can we get there before dark? We need to rest and we need food. Is there time? How will we make it? I get that old familiar feeling of emptiness in my muscles, and I know I am almost out of fuel. After so many years of high-energy use, I can read the warnings my body gives when it is about to Shut Down. At that point, one of the guys veers off the road and quickly back into line… Like a trucker falling asleep, only to veer back into the lane when he hits the rumble-strips. That makes the decision for me. We must stop. The other guys are shutting down, too. I check for a good place to break, but there is nothing except windswept grass and shrubs in sight. In desperation, I cut to the far side of the road, where there’s at least a wide ditch to block the wind from two sides. Not optimal, but we can use our bikes to block the third. Dan pulls over after me, and so does Mike. Exhausted, Chris half-crashes into the embankment and lays facedown, unmoving. The ditch turns out to be a horse trail, complete with hoofprints and droppings. "Let’s have some food," I slur. Dinner before we’ve made camp? This is so far outside our normal habits that the guys don’t get it at first. "MMmmpff," Chris mumbles into the wet grass, still not moving. Dan breaks out the stove and Mike finds the last batch of spaghetti. We all know this will be our last meal until we reach a town, so we go about it with focused intent. Chris stumbles over to the stove as the smell of food vitalizes him. We all huddle around the tiny stove in eager anticipation. At one point, in an effort to salvage the calorific starch-water, Mike spills some noodles. Chris looks on with an expression of deprived horror as the noodles lay on the ground with the horse-apples. All four of us follow our instincts and jump to eat the fouled noodles anyway, not thinking of the bacteria in animal residue. But, Mike pulls out a forgotten pack of spaghetti and we surrender the lost calories to the one-celled organisms we fear most. Normally, we don’t mind eating food off the ground. But we stay away from Waste, as it’s one of the best ways to get diarrhea. We wolf down the spaghetti like men who haven’t seen food in years; each greedily holding out our plates as the noodles are divvied up. Our spirits lift as the fuel gets to our famished brains and legs. Soon we are lounging in the grass and joking again. The rain continues unabated. 
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