Those of you who are following me via Twitter and Facebook know that I had a bit of a scare yesterday. After spending four hours in the emergency room and surviving a night of sleepless self-inquisition I figured it made sense to go over what happened.
WHAT TRANSPIRED
Leaving my starting point, I immediately hit some pretty serious hills. This was a bit unexpected. I had been told there would be some hills ahead but that the road would wind through a valley for most of the day. By the time I summited my fourth hill I had climbed over three thousand solid feet under a hot, merciless sun. I stopped at the summit to catch my breath and find some shade. As I drank from one of my water bottles I realized I was now left with a bottle and a half of water and I still had close to 30 miles left to ride (I was near mile 28 by that point).
By mile 40 the road flattened out and I started to hallucinate. The sky suddenly appeared more ominous and turned a darker shade of red. The road became malleable, like a live snake that quivered ahead towards the horizon. From somewhere inside me came a voice that was firm and clear: “Jack, you are in trouble.”
I understood what that voice meant. I really did. But I had very few options. The sun was beating down hard and the temperature was still climbing. There was no place where I could stop and take refuge. There wasn't a house, a barn or even a tree around for miles and everywhere I looked I saw barbed wire fences on either side of the road. It was like I was in the middle of an open-air prison.
At mile 45 I stopped next to an electricity pole. Angling my body along the edges of it's shadow I drank deeply from my water bottle and closed my eyes. I told myself that I only had 13 miles to go. Looking down, I realized I now had less than a quarter of a bottle of water left. “That's just going to have to do,” I told myself.
Here's an iPhone photo of my bike taken from the meager shade of the electricity pole:
At mile 50 I began wheezing uncontrollably and stopped to take another break. I propped my bike on a metal marker. Sitting on the other side of the bike, I contorted my arms and legs to fit the shade of my bike as much as possible. I then grabbed my water bottle and drank the last drop of water I had.
Here's a photo of the road from where I was sitting:
At that point, it was clear to me that if I stayed where I was I would eventually succumb to heat stroke. I could try to flag down a car but traffic had been light to non-existent all day. The only viable option was to keep going. While getting back on the bike meant spending more energy, at least it gave me the possibility of reaching shelter.
I was delirious when I got back on the bike. Two miles later I spotted the first roadside tree I'd seen in over 20 miles. I angled my bike over and collapsed on some grass right underneath. I remember looking up as leaves rustled in the wind and shadows filled endless crevices of brown bark and green branches. I was talking to myself at that point. I remember arguing with my mom about something; trying to convince a junior partner at my old firm that a document I had drafted was what he wanted; wiping tears from the face of an old lover.
After 15-20 minutes I started to come around a bit. I looked around for the first time and realized that I was right in front of a farmhouse. Relief washed over me in waves. I struggled to my feet and made my way over to the porch door. I knocked politely, but firmly. An older women answered the door and let me in immediately. She brought me to the kitchen where she filled a 32 ounce container with tap water. I drank it all in one gulp. She filled it again. This time I drank it more deliberately. But I finished it. I went outside and grabbed two of my water bottles and filled those in the sink. Thanking my host, I propped myself underneath the tree again to consider my options.
I now had less than 6 miles to go and was already feeling much better. If I got going again I could get to my destination in less than 20 minutes and avoid even more heat later on in the day. I felt dehydration would be less of an issue now that I was packing water again. So I got on my bike and started pedaling.
Six miles later I stumbled into town, a shadow of my former self. The hallucinations had come back in full force and I was delirious again. And I had finished all of my water. Again. At that point, I really had no choice but to ask someone how I could get to the nearest ER.
THINKING BACK
Thinking back, there are probably several reasons why I ended up in the ER yesterday:
*Terrain Ignorance: Heading into yesterday's ride, I only had a vague sense of the terrain ahead of me. Normally, I try to nail down what each day's ride is going to look like with the help of the GPS function on my iPhone and a quick search on google maps. But this became nearly impossible the moment I crossed the Oregon border. Without good phone reception there really wasn't much I could do besides ask locals what lay ahead.
*Geographic Ignorance: Having decided to stay off the established Transamerica trail I didn't have a clue that Eastern Oregon is basically composed of a large desert dotted with some pretty significant mountain ranges. And here I was picturing towering mountains full of green vegetation, mist and frequent afternoon rains...
*Heat: The temperature in eastern Oregon has remained in the high 90's this past week. Lucky for me, road temperatures have been far higher because of the heat reflected by asphalt and surrounding mountains. At one point yesterday, my bike computer showed a temperature of 111F. Even adjusting for a discrepancy I'm pretty certain I was riding in temperatures exceeding 105F.
*Getting Up Late: I didn't get much sleep the night before. I camped next to a pretty active highway and woke up every time a car shot past. I eventually left my starting point about 8:30 am local time. It was already in the mid 80s at that point.
*Tire Flat: While I bought two new tires just recently, I decided to use one for the rear wheel and keep one in reserve. The front wheel had had only one flat since Virginia and I figured I would ride it until the tire was nice and worn. Lucky for me, I got my second flat just yesterday, around mile 20. It took me 25 minutes to change it and patch the tube. Meanwhile, the heat was getting worse and worse...
PROVING THAT I AM NOT A PUSSY
Beyond this stuff there is one overarching reason why I ended up in the emergency room yesterday: my absolute, constant and overarching obsession with proving that I am not a pussy. That I have more balls than anyone else. That when things get tough I just need to dig deep and push myself to the brink. That when confronted with something that is seemingly insurmountable my first reaction is to stick out my middle finger, yell out a firm “Fuck YOU!” and hit it head-on with every ounce of strength I can muster.
This mentality has served me well over the years. In some ways, it is the reason I was able to survive a pretty dysfunctional childhood. It is the reason I excelled academically, even as I poked my finger in the eye of more than one teacher/professor. It is the reason I have crossed the country on a bicycle, by myself, carrying an extra 30 pounds of stuff most people would have sent home a long time ago.
When things got rough yesterday I did everything in my power to avoid being a pussy. I rode on when I probably should have stopped and waited for a passing car. I rode on when I noticed that my water supplies were too low. I rode on when every part of my body was immobilized by fatigue and dehydration.
On the other hand, I can't help but see a great deal of irony in all of this. I may have put myself in a dangerous situation because I, stupidly, wanted to prove that I was stronger than the terrain, the geography, the heat, and the desert itself. But it was that same intense determination that helped me push forward towards safety when I could have just given up completely.
POSTCRIPT
As I got off my bike in front of the clinic yesterday I looked due east towards the desert that could have killed me. Slowly raising my right hand I extended my middle finger and muttered under my breath a raspy, but firm “Fuck You.”
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