The Road to Recovery

Ron White, a member of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour once painted a vivid picture in my mind about what it means to be bored.  One of his bits started, "Yesterday I was sittin on a beanbag chair naked, eating Cheetos, and I was flippin through the television and I saw Robert Tilton.  He's a televangelist out of Dallas, and he was staring at me.  He looked at me and said, 'Are you lonely?'  Yeah."  Since I'm tryin to keep this blog PG, I'll assure my readers that I have not replicated this.  Instead, I prefer Doritos and Sportscenter.  

On the Journey, almost every hour of the day was planned out.  5 am wakeups were typical followed by anywhere from 5 to 8 hours of cycling on the road.  When we'd arrive at lodging, we'd stay busy with showers, Walmart and bike shop runs, and quick naps before a sponsored dinner or Friendship Visit.  Afterwards, some of the more energetic guys would go out at night while others would pass out around 10 to rest up for the next day.  This might sound hectic but I loved it.  We all did.  To transition from that to entire days of lying in bed is not easy.  Boredom doesn't quite do justice to describe my new daily routine.  I'm used to staying very busy, whether at school or on the Journey.  Rest and recovery don't suit me well.  I'm also not very patient, can you tell?

However, my body needed this rest.  After Drayton and I left the hospital, I was able to stay with the team for 3 more days.  At first, my excitement to have left the hospital carried me.  Before long, my body began to fight back as it needed rest to recover from significant surgery.  I could last until noon without taking my pain pills before it got to the point where I couldn't hold a conversation due to pain.  I'd pop a percocet and pass out for the next 3 hours.  I didn't want the guys to know that I was in pain because then they'd try and take care of me when they had other stuff they needed to be doing.  After 72 hours my desire for self preservation was able to reason with my stubbornness that this daily routine wasn't healthy.  I talked with my Project Manager and my parents and I was on a plane back to Indy the next morning.  JT and Trevor, thanks for givin me a ride to the airport, I enjoyed our talk on the way there.

So here I am back in Indy.  Home sweet home.  It sucks not being out on the road with the team.  I had devoted not only my entire summer to this cause but also countless hours of training and fundraising during the school year.  To not be with the team for a week and a half and to have only cycled half the distance is something I've had trouble dealing with.  I feel like I'm cheating myself and my sponsors.  Also, there was always a pride piece in me signing up for this.  There's a profound sense of accomplishment in cycling all the way across the country.  I'm no longer able to do that.  I'm frustrated.  I'm in pain.  The pain adds to the frustration.  I've tried to find meaning in my injury and had mixed results in discovering the answers.  After about 3 days with this toxic attitude, something caused a change in my perspective.  Still not sure what it was.  However, I realized that the answer had been staring at me all along.  It's not about the bike.

I'll repeat it to further convince myself.  It's not about the bike.  It never had been, from day 1 we had been told this.  The ride is just a means for us to gain publicity to further our true mission: to change society's perception of those with disabilities and fraternity men.  It's calming, reassuring to truly believe in something like that.    

Finally, to say that I'm not having any fun would be a lie.  I pass the time with Entourage, my boy Harry Potter, and hangin out with two of my favorite people.  I get to lay around in the sun and work off this awesome/terrible farmers tan that 8 hours a day on the bike will get you.  Side note: the team gave me the nickname David (pronounced with a sexy Spanish accent) due to my deep tan and natural charm, obviously.  David is a Cuban poolboy.  Cougar bait, if you will.  Well boys, poolboy is back haha.  Back to the story.  This past week has been a welcome break for my body and it's always good to reconnect with those back home.  I went to the doctor on Friday and he told me that while the break in the collarbone was worse than expected and rehab will take longer (damnit) my shoulder will be fine.  I'm trying to do all that I can to ensure a quick and healthy heal.  Until that point, I'm excited to rejoin the team on Monday in Terre Haute and finish out this incredible Journey.     

The Day Life Threw Me Lemons

Colorado had been good to us.  Gorgeous sights, entertaining nights, lots of Push programming/Friendship Visits, multiple days off and a general sense of relief for finally escaping Wyoming.  I knew it was too good to be true.  I'll soon post reviews of Boulder, Denver and Colorado Springs but first I'll tell yall about my most memorable moment of the summer thus far.  

 

The day started in Lamar and we were headed to Garden City, Kansas, crossing into our sixth state of the summer.  I stayed up late the night before working on the wake up music mix for our 5 am wakeup preceding yet another century ride.  Usually Maroon 5, Michael Buble, Shwayze, Dierks Bentley, and the Goofy Movie Soundtrack don't work together but they did this particular morning and the team was loose and ready during morning circle up.  Good news that added to the general pleasant mood of the morning was that the team was now allowed to ride in pacelines of up to 6, increasing the time each rider could draft behind those in front of him.  

The ride technically began in Colorado but the scenery looked just like Kansas.  Once you get 50 miles east of Denver, the Rockies are lost behind you and the eastern half of the state consists of mostly high plains.  Around mile 15, I finished my turn pulling (the lead position in the paceline where you take on all the headwinds to ease the ride for those behind you) and fell to the back.  I got lazy and fell several bike lengths back from the group so I put my head down and cranked out a few hard pedal strokes to close the gap and take advantage of the draft.  When I looked up, I realized I had built too much speed and was too close to James (the rider in front of me).  I veered slightly to the left as my front tire passed and overlapped his rear tire.  There was a rumble strip immediately to my left so I stayed too close to James and my front and his rear tire began to rub.  In retrospect, I should have just eased my bike onto the rumble strip until my bike was a safe distance away from James instead of trying to avoid the bumps.  Now since his rear tire is fixed, he likely didn't feel anything at all.  However, my front tire was going crazy since it was flexible and we were traveling about 22mph.  I've rubbed tires in the past and been able to pull out and stabilize the bike but this time was different.  As I tried to fight my shaking handlebars, my front wheel jerked right and I began to feel myself falling over the right side of my bike.  My hands hit the asphalt first (like an idiot I wasn't wearing gloves) and transferred almost all of my momentum directly onto my right shoulder.  My head and right hip smacked the road too and my speed bounced me once as I rolled into the grassy ditch.

I temporarily blacked out when my head hit the road.  Thankfully, my helmet took all the force (unfortunately it also broke, even though that's what it's designed to do).  Because of that, I was destined to see an orthopedic surgeon instead of a neurosurgeon as well.  Kids, always wear your helmets.  When I sat up on the side of the grassy hill, I heard a dull ringing as I tried to take in my surroundings.  I slowly took off my sunglasses with my left hand, I had no idea what kind of trouble my right arm was in yet.  The paceline stopped and James ran back to help.  I asked for water as I tried to take a mental tally of what parts of my body worked and what might be in trouble.  However, due to the adrenaline and general shock that my body was in, I didn't really feel any pain.  I had to be told that there was a deep gash in my right hand that was bleeding all over my shorts.  I hardly noticed that my right shoulder was fixed in an unnatural position.  I knew my shoulder was my main problem spot but also guessed I shouldn't try moving it.  It only took 10 minutes after one of the guys called Drayton (our crew chief) for him to arrive, get me in a van, and speed back towards the Lamar ER.  

Once in the ER (Drayton, James, and Jeremy I can't thank you enough for sticking with me) the four of us discussed my accident with the staff and developed a plan.  Not wanting to further scare myself or the guys, I started joking around with the awesome Lamar nursing staff (Toni, thank you) in an effort to make light of my injury.  They gave me some pain meds, cut off my jersey, and eyeballed the shoulder.  Broken collarbone, was the prognosis.  Inside my head I was thinking "shit!" but tried to joke around as we went to get x-rays.  I wish I had the file with my pre op x-rays, they really are spectacular.  The aftermath?  Open fracture to my right clavicle (collarbone.  also meaning one of the pieces had punctured the skin), fractured scapula (shoulder blade), bruised ribs, and lots of road rash (scrapes) covering the right arm.  Yippee.  Looks like my summer of riding is over and a trip to a Denver surgeon is in my immediate future.

After yet another shot in my ass (4 in 30 minutes), Drayton took me to Denver as James and Jeremy rejoined the team.  The Lamar staff did us huge favors as the only thing Drayton and I had to do were arrive at the Denver hospital and the surgeons were waiting.  I like to thank Dr. Oster, my primary surgeon, for fixing me me.  Post op x-ray shown below.  Huge thanks to my incredible Denver nursing staff (Maria, thank you for putting up with my playful sarcasm/bad humor and keepin me in line).  These nurses made sure I stayed comfortable and finally convinced me to start taking my pain meds.  Also thank you Mrs. Thacker, mother of cyclist Ben Thacker for visiting Drayton and I twice during our two day stay.  

My right shoulder, post op, with a plate and 9 screws in my clavicle.

While leaving the hospital was uncomfortable, I was happy to be out.  They had me on an antibiotic drip for 48 hours due to the open fracture on my collarbone or I would've been released sooner.  Drayton and I made the 8 hour drive and met up with the team in Pratt, Kansas.  We arrived at 12:15 am and since the team had a 5:30 am wakeup, I assumed they'd all be sleeping.  However, they were all awake and waiting to welcome Drayton and I back to the team.  It was a very happy moment to be reunited with the guys and catch up on the last 2 days. 

This has been one of the most significant moments of my life for all the wrong reasons.  However, I am unbelievably thankful that my helmet protected me from any head or neck trauma.  I'm thankful to be apart of a life changing summer, an event that is bigger than myself or my teammates.  While I have become what I was originally riding for I'm thankful that my disability is only temporary.  As I struggle to find meaning in my injury, I will continue to show thanks and appreciate the little things.  If you're going to be slowed down by injury, spending time with a great group of guys whose purpose is to help serve those with disabilities isn't the worst place in the world to be.  I swear, these guys need to stop asking if I need any help.  Haven't they figured out how stubborn I am yet?  Hah, I'm thankful for their company.  Alright, I can tell this is a long one so I'll wrap it up.  I'll post recovery details soon.  Thanks for readin

WYOMING!!! ... wyoming ...

Wyoming made the mistake of giving away its best far too early.  The first two days we were greeted with Yellowstone Park and the Tetons, two of the most incredible sights in America.  The varied and bizarre landscape of Yellowstone was something I'd never seen before.  Hot springs and geysers scattered the cauldron, the name given to a large area of volcanic activity.  You could find out more about the geography of this place by talking to my Dad, who was very jealous of where I was staying.  The next day we rode into Jackson Hole and got an up close view of the Teton Mountains.  Whenever I think of mountains, I think of jagged, snow covered peaks that shoot out of the surrounding landscape.  The Tetons are just that.  The rival the Alps in terms of rugged beauty.  After exploring the town, we had a fabulous day off that I've described in another post below.  Unfortunately, the incredible sights pretty much ended after that.  The one other point of interest was on the way to Dubois when we crossed over the Continental Divide at our highest point of the summer of just over 9,000 feet.  

I really have to explain just how empty the rest of Wyoming is.  One evening in the bustling town of Shoshoni, we stopped in a restaurant and talked with locals about the next day's ride to Casper.  Casper, the second largest city in Wyoming, population 50,000.  All three groups of people we talked with said this was the loneliest 100 mile stretch of highway in America.  "Come on," we said, "There's gotta be something good to see along the way."  One man replied, "Yeah, I'm sure there's a bend in the road at some point."  Yeehaw.  The landscape on this particular day was nothing more than a desert with shrubs, rocks, and dust.  My paceline played the game "Find that tree" where the first person to spot an actual tree won.  The first winner was at mile 20.  Next winner, mile 60.  No more winners until mile 100 in Casper.  We also passed a place called Hells Half Acre.  This is where all the outdoor scenes for the movie Starship Troopers was filmed.  If you ever want to see a landscape that is suitable for a fictional movie about a God-forsaken alien planet filled with giant, killer bugs, Wyoming can hook you up.  Wyoming is given 3 electoral votes.  I'm pretty sure that's being a little generous.  Now if you're reading this and you're from the aforementioned 100 mile stretch and I'm offending you, I apologize.  However, I could see for at least 10 miles on each side of the road so I'm guessing the total number of people that live in this 2,000 square mile area is maybe 11, so I'm not that worried.  

I must add that while Wyoming is a little barren and cows outnumber the people 5:1 (I saw it on a bumper sticker so it must be true) the people are fantastic.  Everyone we talked to was welcoming and kind.  After visiting a few small town bars, it's clear they definitely know how to have a good time.  And man can they cook.  We had several dinners sponsored by the Wyoming Cattlewoman's Association.  These women are from all over the state and promote beef to those passing through.  On several occasions, I had to fight the urge to propose to the chef after I ate some delicious beef brisket, pulled beef sandwiches, and more.  Best I've ever had.  

So if you ever visit the west I would recommend stopping by Yellowstone and Grand Teton.  Shoshoni, Dubois, and Wheatland might not make your list but there's something to be said for small town America and the ranches of Wyoming.   

Man Day

Right now we're enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon in beautiful Boulder, Colorado.  My and three other guys are taking advantage of some free wifi at a coffee house on Pearl Street, the main strip through Boulder.  Today is an off day with no scheduled programming until this evening so we all enjoyed going out and experiencing the college atmosphere last night and sleeping in this morning.  I've fallen behind a little bit with my blog updates so I'd like to tell a story about one of my favorite days on the Journey thus far, Man Day.

About a week and a half ago, the team rode past the Teton Mountains (gorgeous!) on the way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.  We were met by some Colorado-Boulder Pi Kapp alum who took us to a ranch about 15 miles outside Jackson in the foothills of the Tetons.  I'd like to thank the Cushman family for generously allowing 27 college guys to stay at their summer home for the night.  This place was an outdoor paradise.  Skeet shooting, horseback riding, fly fishing, swimming, hiking, bonfires, it was all there.  After a fabulous lunch that was a welcome change compared to our regular roadside lunches, the team split up to try some of the activities.  I started with skeet shooting.  Having never fired a shotgun before, I was pretty excited about the opportunity.  I watched some other guys go first and took some advice from one of the Colorado Pi Kapps before I took my turn.  I either had some great beginners luck or I'm a natural because I set the best marks for the day going 4/5.  What a rush.  I'm thinkin about becoming a card carrying member of the NRA.  Mom, I'm only kidding.  

After that, we went to a stocked pond to learn how to fly fish.  Not as easy as the skeet shoot.  I could keep that line flying above my head in its long, whipping pattern all day long but whenever I tried to cast the hook would lazily fall about 15 feet in front of me.  I'm used to casting with heavy bait like a worm so the light fly was difficult to get used to.  I left after about an hour having not gotten a bite in a stocked pond.  I guess I'm not a born fisherman or I just don't have the necessary patience.  

Returning to the house with no fish to speak of, I got the chance to go horseback riding for the first time.  I was paired up with a big brown horse named Traveler.  We were meant to be.  Traveler's need for speed paired with my reckless abandon made for a fun afternoon racing through the hilly Idaho countryside.  At night we had another fabulous meal and told funny college stories around the campfire.  

The next morning we were hooked up with some free rafting passes on the Snake River.  To say this water was cold is an understatement.  It was fresh mountain runoff that was about 42 degrees.  We all squeezed into wetsuits and hopped into the raging river.  We hit some pretty intense rapids and all took turns flipping off the raft into the water during slow spots in the trip.  Seriously, when you hit the water and fully submerged, it took your breath away.  I thought Lake Superior was cold but the Snake was much more frigid.  That afternoon the team went down an alpine slide which is a concrete luge where we raced down the mountain in sleds with wheels.  Some guys got going a little too fast, lost control of their sleds, and earned some pretty spectacular scrapes when they fell off their sleds and slid down the luge on their butt.  By no means any serious injuries, just something we all laughed about.  

That day and a half off was something we really needed.  The next five days included four century rides through the desolate Wyoming countryside.  Once again I'd like to thank the Cushman family and the Colorado Pi Kapps for showing us such a good time.  Thanks for reading. 

   

The Races to Missoula and Cheyenne

Most days on the Journey are carefree and taken at an easy pace to conserve energy for the current ride and the days to come. However, some days we have a sponsored lunch or noon event that requires the team to pick up the pace and make sure we're at lodging on time. On these days, we have what's called a rackpoint. That means each paceline has to be at a certain mileage point by a certain time or else crew will load their bicycles to the crew vans and drive them the rest of the way to lodging. Don't nobody wanna get racked. Just a competitive thing.

The first time a rackpoint became an issue with a paceline of mine was on the ride to Missoula, Montana. We had to ride 100 miles by noon to make a 12:30 sponsored lunch. My paceline of four was crusing along at a decent pace until flats started to become an issue. The first and second ones weren't so bad, we were still on pace to beat the clock. It takes me anywhere from 5-10 minutes to fix a flat, pretty slow but not too time consuming. However, as the flats started to accumulate due to the rough shoulder of the interstate, we began to get uneasy. Side note: Yes, you can ride your bike on the interstate but only in a few states. Montana, Wyoming, and maybe one other. They're usually the fastest way to get to our destination but they're all riddled with rumble strips some of which take up the entire shoulder of the road.  Not fun to ride across every 20 feet.  Since my mom reads these I'll assure her that we take extra precautions to ensure safety and the mild mannered motorists of Montana couldn't be nicer. Back to the story. After our fourth flat (three of which were mine, I had to toss that tire shortly there after) we calculated that we had to average 24 mph over the next hour and a half to beat the clock. The race was on. I'm not sure how we were able to crank out the miles as fast as we did but I know it was something I could not have done alone. We pushed eachother and were remarkably on track to be on time until Max, our strongest rider of the paceline got his first flat of the day, making five for the group. The four of us had run out of tubes to replace flats since we never thought we would accumulate so many in one day. We thought we were finished, you never leave a rider behind. Our option was to just sit around and wait for a crew van to pick us up. But Max suggested we pick up our bikes and start walking towards Missoula. Why not? It was only another 10 miles and we were running on an adrenaline high so it sounded like a great idea. I wish I was able to paint the picture of 4 determined, perhaps delusional cyclists walking along the side of the interstate with their bikes slung on their shoulders. As Max says, "It was epic." We could've used the theme song to Rocky or The Eye of the Tiger. We made it about a mile before a crew van met up with us and Max was forced to rack. However, the rest of us were given the green light to finish the ride. Exhausted, we rolled into town just in time for lunch. Needless to say, we all slept well that night.

Three days ago on the ride into Cheyenne, Wyoming, my paceline experienced two flats and a minor injury that caused time to be a factor. Again, we pulled off a remarkable average speed over the last hour of the ride that can only be explained by good teamwork and four guys that may be a little too competitive. We thought we were on pace to beat it. 65 miles by 11:30. We made 64.15 miles by 11:30. We were racked. Rackpoints are precise, rackpoints are mean. However, it was a good team building experience. It also reshifted our focus that this summer is not about the bike, it's about changing society's perception of people with disabilities and fraternities. Though we didn't make this one, we had a great time racing trying to beat the clock.

Other than that, I'm thankful to be out of Wyoming and in Colorado where we get some shorter riding days and two days off to help us rest as we continue the Push mission.