however, 13,000 km, border patrol, my friend

October 11, 2008

Day Twenty

"There's no way a person could have this much diarrhea and survive."
- Christina Lauren -

"Sometimes I just want someone to hug me and say, 'I know it's hard. You're going to be okay. Here's a coffee. And 5 million dollars.'"
- Unknown -

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I promised myself that if I ever started writing about my bowel habits it was time to hang up the pen. Maybe even check myself into a nursing home so I can discuss my bowel movements with other residents over a watery breakfast, most of which would be on my clothing, complaining about how the world is going to hell in a handbasket while occasionally referring to a calendar so I wouldn't miss one of my 37 daily doctor's appointments.

However....

However…. It's actually an integral part of the day, so if I leave it out I feel like you'll be messing something.

Erm, I mean missing something.

So, I'm just going to make a simple statement and say that I had diarrhea. I can assure you that I won't use any adjectives or any adverbs. Just the basic facts: I had a rough night. And the rough part wasn't over.

Cecil had said that he wakes up at 5:30 and he was as good as his word; at 5:31 he entered the living room where we were sleeping. Just as he'd predicted, the road was wet.... it did rain last night.

We loaded up our bikes and said our goodbyes around 8:30. But not before asking him if I could have a roll of toilet paper.

Cecil is quite a character. I wish him well.

Klaus and I switched bikes for about fifty yards. I do not see now he rides that monster. I felt like a toddler trying to pedal a tractor. In addition to carrying more weight (27 cameras, his bowling ball collection, gold ingots for trade, and weights to exercise his upper body), the steering was dramatically different. When I turned the handlebars, which required the strength of Hercules, nothing happened for a full three minutes. Then slowly, slowly, it would turn. At speeds over three inches per hour the front end would shimmy enough so that I felt the need to pay for a massage. His first gear felt like my fifth gear. Once we switched back, I felt like I was on a racing bike.

And yet, oddly enough, Klaus and I travel at about the same speed.

We stopped at the Truck Stop on I-10 to eat breakfast and stayed for more than an hour. Mostly I was just stalling because the thought of placing an already-sore butt on that saddle simply crushed my soul. Regardless, I realized that I could stay in one place and feel bad or I could climb on the bike and feel bad, so I chose the latter. One last trip to the restroom and we're off and running (Klaus is off and I'm running).

This guy seems to be holding his cramping abdomen, too.

We had the access road all to ourselves for a long time, which was great.

there were a number of these guys along the way

the access road eventually veered off so we got back onto the shoulder of Interstate 10

although it wasn't steep, we climbed most of the day

You know what sounds REALLY good when you're having gastrointestinal discomfort?

Right! Beer!

If you recall from a previous post, Klaus celebrates every 1000th kilometer with a beer, and after five short miles it's time for the 13,000 kilometer beer.

When traveling in other parts of the world Klaus keeps his cyclometer on kilometers. In America, because of our maps and signage, he keeps it on miles. That's why kilometer number 13,000 slipped up on us without him having bought any beer for the occasion.

But wait! Good news! He still has the "training beer."

He pulled it out and as soon as I saw it my bowels lurched in protest. Sorry, Coach, my training will have to be postponed. No beer for me this morning.

Here are some pictures taken along the way.

I carried some extra water today to avoid getting dehydrated

The day, mirroring my spirits, became dark and overcast, and we occasionally felt a drop or two of rain. We began climbing almost immediately after leaving the Truck Stop, and there wasn't a moment all day when we didn't have a headwind. Those things, combined with my abdominal cramping and... umm... the issues associated with that, made for a difficult day.

Toward the end of the day my morale was pretty low. Repeatedly, I had to stop the bike, run beyond the railroad track (almost, but not quite out of sight), toilet paper in hand, and take care of some unpleasant business. What else are you going to do when you're on a bike?

The next-to-last time, a very close call, I dashed away from the road and out of sight.

What do you think happens when a passing car sees a guy sprinting away from the road, then hiding... a quick cellphone call and…

Do you remember how I told you that the Border Patrol vehicles are everywhere? While I was out of sight, one of them pulled up beside Klaus and the guy inside asked, "Where's your partner?" Wordlessly, Klaus pursed his lips and responded with a farting noise. The officer just laughed and drove away.

I'm glad to know our borders are safe from bicyclists with diarrhea. I feel much more secure.

I mentioned the constant headwind. I mentioned the overcast skies. I mentioned the uphill climb. I think I might've mentioned the diarrhea and the secondary discomfort resulting from repeated bouts of expelling a Pop's Better Burger. I mentioned how rough the road was that day. A bad combination.

Around 5:00, I made my final waddling, clenched-butt cheek-jog to the other side of the tracks, terror filling my heart from the fear of filling my shorts.

Klaus was waiting patiently as I listlessly dragged myself back to the bike. I know I must've looked terrible... sunken, hollow eyes, ashen complexion, sweating, slack mouth, weak.

At that point, one would've expected him to say something like, "I'm sorry you're not feeling well." Or, "I hope you get to feeling better." Instead, he looked at me with that big, dumb German grin and said,

"How's the shitter?"

To some people, on the surface, that might seem a little.... oh, I don't know.... insensitive?

However, it was at that moment, paradoxically, that I knew Klaus was my friend. Sometimes you need someone to pat you on the hand and say,

"Awwww... everything's going to be alright."

Sometimes you need someone to say, "How's the shitter?"

A friend knows the difference.

"Shitty," I replied, and the corners of my mouth twitched upwards for the first time that day.

We arrived in Van Horn after an excruciatingly long time. Today was not a fun day, but I got through it.

Sometimes that's all you can ask for.

hollow-eyed, but grimly determined to get through the day

Beautiful scenery, with railroad track in the foreground. Just don't look on the other side of the railroad tracks.

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distance: 58.39 miles (today's 58 miles were more difficult than yesterday's 72 miles)
average speed: 10.2 mph
maximum speed: 26.5 mph
time: 5:41:02
total distance: 987.1 miles

Today's ride: 58 miles (93 km)
Total: 981 miles (1,579 km)

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George (Buddy) HallI've had a day or 2 like this, but I wasn't brave enough to write about it - or I was too embarrassed to tell the tale! You described what it's really like! I always carry chewable pepto-bismol tablets in my med-kit when I tour now, and they seem to do the trick.
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