Just Plain Stupid
Some people might think that in lining up for the Quabbin Road Race today, I was exhibiting heart full of courage, manliness, or adventure. I'm not quite certain what filled my now thawed heart, however, after tallying up the evidence I can state with confidence that not much filled my head when I made the decision to ride today. Let me now share with you the proof points that my brain truly has vacated the premises.
- Emails were flying early Saturday morning from much wiser teammates saying things like "Just made the call- I'm out! 41 degrees (feels like 34) 100% rain, no thanks."
- Ski races start with scenes like this, not road races.
- While lining up waiting to be sent off for the race, my full body shivers caused my cleats to clack against my pedals like rampagin mafia hit men.
- Again, riders much wiser than me in the fields that started prior to my Cat 4 field were steadily trickling back to the start rather than head to the finish as I progressed out onto the course.
- Up until today, I had ignorantly assumed that hypothermia was reserved for swimmers in water too cold for humans.
McD's to the Rescue!
Unfortunately those coming hear looking for a juicy race report will once again leave this blog disappointed. My race ended just over 50 minutes after it started and much of the time was spent suffering in ways unknown to me prior to today, so I can't recall for you how the race played out.
(One exception -- about 30 minutes into the race, the lead motorcycle took the top 20 guys to the left at a fork, when they should have taken a right. I circled the intersecting parking lot twice before opting to ignore the motorcycle, whereas the poor lead folks, many of whom looked pretty darn strong, were taken on a ten mile detour. Note to race promoters -- make sure you moto drivers know the course, or at least have a way to call for support in if they get lost!)
Shortly after the opting for the right turn at the intersection (as opposed to the wrong left turn taken by most of my teammates), I noticed my breathing started to quicken, even though the pace hadn't dramatically increased. I briefly begain to dispair that yet again, my legs were failing me and better riders were pulling away from me. But then as my body started shutting down on me, I realized that it was something far worse that was taking out of the pack.
After about ten minutes of struggling to regain contact with the pack, I realized that I could no longer feel my hands or my feet. My breathing, despite being on fairly benign terrain, had quickened such that it sounded like I was ascending the Mt Washington Auto Road. Then full blown panic ensued as it became crystal clear that I was slipping into a hypothermic state, and I did an about face to head to the start line, much as the wiser racers had done much earlier than me.
Turns out that I made my decision to bail on the race too far from the starting line, and as my brain began to shut down, my thoughts narrowed to just one -- where can I go for help? I had reached a point where I was a danger to others on the road as my body shook with such violence that cars needed to give me clearance as if I had a "wide load" sign pinned to my back rather than a race number. This was not a case of someone simply "wimping out" who no longer felt like racing in the rain. Time was truly running out, and I needed to get help fast.
Had I been more coherent at the time, I would have remarked at the irony that my saviors today were the kind staff at the Belchertown McDonald's. I've always steered clear of such places, but in my darkest hour it was the Golden Arches that brought me to safety. I entered the restaurant sopping wet, shaking uncontrollably and unable to string together enough words to coherently ask for help. Yet a formal request for help wasn't necessary with the friendly youngsters I who came to my rescue.
I first received a steaming cup of hot water, which unfortunately mostly ended up spilled on the table as I was unable to steady the cup against my lips. I soon found myself sipping a free cup of hot coffee, which again mostly ended up on the table. I probably would have found myself quickly in the passenger seat of an employees car, but it was only my inability to talk that kept us delayed as they seemed anxious to take me where ever I needed in order to get help.
In my wildest nightmares prior to today I never would have imagined that I'd do this, but.... if you're ever in Belchertown, please stop in to McDonalds and spend lots of money! You'll not be disappointed with their supportive and compassionate staff. In fact, I'm hoping that they'll come up with me to Bennington Stage Race next week to support me at the feed zone. The way my April racing has gone so far, I could use support like they have to offer!
