This is me, ready to roll. Well, sort of…
The good news is that I am at my Weight Watchers goal weight for the first time in more than one year.
The bad news is that I didn’t get there the right way, so it likely won’t last. And, of course, how I got there is the bad news, too.
My ride Sunday was miserable.
After 26 miles I jumped off the bike and lost my dinner, and breakfast, and anything else in there. Several times. Not so fun.
I ate a pizza for dinner the night before that didn’t sit too well with me. I woke at 1 a.m. knowing things wouldn’t go to well, but I still hoped for the best.
When the alarm went off at 3 a.m., I still had the telltale signs of trouble. I nibbled a graham cracker, got ready, we picked up a friend and headed off for LaGrange.
We go to the start line pretty early and I took a spot right near the start line. (Pretty exciting!)
That was where my bike was at first. Then we realized we were at the wrong spot. But I was still very near the start. I think I was in the third group released to ride.
While I stood and waited, I was excited and a reporter even interviewed me about my thoughts on the day and the cancellation of Saturday’s ride. I was positive. Sure, I was disappointed about the weather, but I still had the potential for a good day ahead of me.
Here are a few shots of my water bottle, covered with the names of those supporting me (including many of you!)
The ride began and off we went.
Here’s a shot just after we started.
Soon it was time for the route to split and I took the Bektel Challenge route through the park. We pedaled past the flooded Fairgrounds and pretty quickly climbed a few hills and rolled down a few as well. We passed the bagpiper I loved so much from last year:
At about 23 miles we flew down the big hill. And it was at that downhill that things really went downhill.
I was uncomfortable before, but during the drop my stomach cramped up and I could barely manage the pain. I saw a sign for a rest stop in 3 miles and cringed. My memory from last year failed me-I thought the rest stop would be much closer.
As I entered the park I heard my phone ring and guessed my husband might be at the stop ahead. (He had started the ride ahead of me with the Club 300 group. A friend of ours is one of the top 300 fundraisers so my husband got to ride with him and start at the very front.)
I pedaled and was thankful for the crowd of supporters cheering us on. Only one mile remained until the stop.
We were in the park and the roller coaster began. I climbed up those hills and slid down a few others, hoping for the smoothest ride, as my stomach was just getting worse.
Finally I reached the turn off for the rest stop. I stepped off my bike a little sooner than you should at a rest stop and I heard someone behind me yell to keep going. It was then I leaned over my bike and threw up for the first time.
I had to keep moving, though because cyclists were behind me. Even though I was way to the side, I still could have caused danger. I walked a few steps and lost it again. This happened all the way until the path curved again. I was just looking for a place to rest my bike but couldn’t find one and the man with the bull horn kept telling everyone to keep moving. (Because they really did need to.) Finally I stopped getting sick and walked my bike to a safe stopping point. I remember a girl in white sunglasses asking if I was okay and I said, “Well, sort of.” I didn’t know what else to say.
I pulled out my phone to call my husband in the event he was at the stop. I got his voicemail and didn’t want to worry him so I did my best at leaving a generic message of encouragement for him, but my voice was cracking. He later said I sounded pretty bad.
I stood in line for a porta potty, then went and sat on a wall. I recognized a Baker Hughes teammate by his jersey and asked him to refill my water.
After awhile I decided I should stop by the medical tent just incase. I was still pretty much in denial of what had happened.
Here I am with my new buddies:
The EMT’s were very nice and offered me some diluted Gatorade and a spot to sit. It wasn’t long before I decided to move to the cot. I was miserable and so disappointed.
While there I did learn that you can go to the ride quite unprepared and the first aid stations will give you what you need. People came for pain killers, sunscreen, Biofreeze for cramping (I jokingly asked if that might help my stomach stop cramping.) and even packets of ChammyButt’r for chaffing.
I was the only cot-rester I saw at that stop.
After more than an hour I decided that I would take the SAG van to lunch and then finish the ride. Thaddeus, my friendly EMT, thought that maybe I should call it a day, but still wished me the best. (He even sent me a nice email that night asking how I was! How nice is that?)
I waited a bit on the SAG van.
We drove through the park and even the ride in the van hurt. I was in good spirits, but my stomach was still very uneasy. It became obvious I wouldn’t be riding any more that day.
At the lunch stop I made my way to the SAG bus and watched as my bike was loaded into a truck.
I climbed aboard, wondering what I would do if I got sick in the school bus. And then I fought back tears.
One girl got on the bus and said “Is this the bus of shame?” We all had to laugh a little. Everyone was pretty good-natured about the experience.
Once we got to Austin we waited for our bikes to be unloaded and I hobbled to where I knew my friends would be. Some on the bus had talked about walking around and then riding over the finish. I knew that even if I wanted to do that it would not be possible. Just walking took a lot of effort.
Eventually I met up with my husband and a few friends, who were all very nice.
Then we set off to walk to a church where some more friends who would be driving us back to LaGrange were. Unfortunately we set off in the wrong direction. After about 8 blocks we realized this and I got sick in someone’s yard. (I’m sorry!)
So we walked back, and since we were back anyway, I decided I should be checked out for dehydration at one of the medic tents. I was checked and they said I wasn’t. After all I lost, I am really thankful I had hydrated the days before the ride. Otherwise, I bet I would have been.
We made our way to the church and eventually home, with several stops along the way.
Not good.
I am sad that I missed out on the whole experience of the MS 150. But I am glad I had it last year and I’m thankful that I even got to ride 26 miles. And I am thankful for all those praying for me and all the money I was able to raise for an excellent cause.
And I fared much better than those for whom the ride is really about. I only had a day of misery. They have many more.
I just hate that my ride ended this way.
But I guess it isn’t really over.
When the first day was cancelled my husband suggested we register for another 2-day MS ride. So we did. We’ll be riding in the Alamo Ride to the River in October. How I will train over the summer I do not know. But I will find a way. And God will provide it, if He wants me to ride.
Wanna join us?
For encouragement, read my post about last year. It’s much better!
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