4 nights after RAAM ended, I woke up for the first time thinking that I was still on RAAM. I truly believed when I awoke that I was still racing and needed to get to my bike. Hearing my husband asking me if I was OK set me straight. The night before that, I had awakened and navigated myself into my closet instead of the bathroom. Sleep deprivation is a crazy thing.
During the day though, I appear to be making rapid strides in physical recovery. I have significant bruising on my right side from my crash late in the race and my hands are completely numb, but I am beginning to feel more like myself. I have a bit of residual death rattle in my lungs, but as I’m not training currently, it’s not problematic. Hopefully that will resolve before I decide to run or ride my bike. Death rattle appears to be only a minor annoyance while sedentary. I’ve seen a hand specialist for my hands, and they’ve done what they can do for now. Time will take care of the rest.
I’m not sure how to adequately tell the story of this race, and thank all of the involved parties. A blow by blow account seems like it would be quite boring, so I’ll offer you a brief summary here, with a few images. A more detailed account regarding the amazing people involved in my race will come out when I have more images to share, and time to do so. And of course there will be the Religion of Sports documentary next year. They caught some seriously funny stuff, numerous very painful moments, and hours of monotony. I believe they will turn it into something you’ll want to watch. I teased them quite a bit about their seemingly excessive sleep relative to mine, and regular meals. They were good sports about my grumpy envy, and cheered me on the whole way. I’m a very shy and private person, but the camera crew melded into the experience of my race. They captured me as I was, from elite athlete to rolling shit show. I think it will be a RAAM documentary like nothing else done to date.
I have had numerous falls from horses, several bicycle crashes, one head injury resulting in a dent in my forehead, and a few cases of whiplash. While I’ve never had trouble with my neck, I knew that I was at risk for Shermer’s neck during RAAM. It was still quite a shock to find it setting in by Colorado, not even halfway into the race. That in essence became the story of my RAAM past Colorado, and yet I refused to say the actual term Shermer’s neck to my crew. How do you ride from Colorado to Maryland with over 10 extra pounds of edema, a lung infection, and neck and shoulder muscles that are failing you? Slowly, painfully, and as upright as you can get. I had decided prior to the race that I would do whatever it took to finish and win, and ride through whatever the race dealt me. I won’t have the luxury of a second RAAM to try again for a finish. It was one of the most painful and yet amazing experiences of my life, filled with incredible scenery and fantastic people. I told Fred Boethling upon finishing that if you offered me perfect weather and a shot at the course record, or the struggle I had just endured, I would choose the struggle. It was an experience like none other. It was the ugliest win I’ve ever had, at the hardest race I’ve ever done. I am so grateful for the opportunity.
People have asked me long before I had actual sponsors how to get them, and I still don’t have a great answer. Win every race you enter for three years, ask for nothing, and don’t be a pompous entitled jerk appears to be the method that worked well for me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to Kyle’s Bikes, Velorosa Cycling, Carbo Pro, Active Edge Orthopedic and Sports Massage, Klite, Beaverdale Bicycles, and Ice Friction Technology. 3100 well fueled miles without a saddle sore or a major mechanical issue is something to be celebrated, and is due to their efforts both before and during the race. Any shortcomings during this race were my own, my equipment and nutrition support were worthy of a pro athlete. Unfortunately for them, I have the heart and mind of champion, and the lungs and 45 year old body of something far inferior. I thank them for their continued support, and look forward to sharing in greater detail their contributions to my race.
Obviously none of this would have been accomplished without the efforts of my 10 crew: Brian Arnold, Connie and Joe Mann, Kathy and Steve Fuller, Daren Munroe, Laurel Darren-Simmons, Alex Hernandez, Erik Newsholme, and Jill Marks. Part of what makes this race so difficult is the relentless nature of the task, and the time limits imposed upon me. I had really no concept of time once I was off the bike and my Garmin was no longer in front of me, so it was their job to keep me safely on the bike as long as possible, and get me back on the bike in a timely fashion no matter the weather or my physical state. Seeing the photos and videos of my physical decline late in the race, I know that had to be hard for them to do. I am at most times pretty frank and blunt in my communication style and my expectations for their performance, and I can only say that that got probably both more entertaining and more abrasive for them as the race rolled on. So many stories to tell, I’m not sure I’ll get to them all! They gave up over 2 weeks of their life, their vacation time, and time with their families to do this, and all they received was a hat, a few shirts, and time on the stage in Annapolis. I hope the experience was all that they hoped for.
More later! Thanks for reading, and for following my journey.