Texas Bike Tour: How it Ended...

The last two days were so much harder than the first two. Day 3 pushed me to my edge physically, and right when I thought I was on the final home stretch of day 4, my mental and emotional edge was found.

Day 3: 120 miles. Del Rio to Sanderson

Phew.

HARDEST day BY FAR! The ripping cross wind was so tricky and challenging (and seemingly impossible) to find a sheltered position in today. I was on the “car side” of Colin all day as the wind was coming from the NE, and the semi trucks were a bit scary (everything is scarier when you’re pushing yourself to your limits). 

I can’t overstate how chaotic the wind was. I couldn’t be in my aero bars all day, which exhausted me. Gripping my handlebars to stay in control of my bike for so many hours made me tense. I yearned for some piece of my body or mind to have the chance to relax just a little, even for 1 minute. Instead, I was hanging on for dear life at the absolute edge of my mental and physical abilities all day, battling the wind.

Due to being positioned on the left side of Colin’s bike, I didn’t get the draft benefit of getting to focus on his wheel from behind like previous days. Seeing the open road and all its obstacles made for a more tense mental/focus experience. On high alert, I had to now watch for cars, road debris, and pace myself in a different way that cost way more mental energy than simply focusing on his wheel and letting him call out any road debris or cars. When he was in front of me, his pedal stroke cadence served as a metronome, and like a pacer when running ultra distances, it provided support. But not today. I had to find my own rhythm and tuck in as close to him as possible from the side while maintaining intense focus. 

Holding myself upright in such a strong crosswind caused my muscles to engage in a lop-sided manner, which made the right side of my body hurt in new ways. My back and shoulders developed some new pain spots. The day was a gradual uphill, too, (net gain of 1,800’) especially late in the day, which seemed more taxing than the shorter, steeper climbs of Leakey/Vanderpool. The climbs of Leakey were at least a mental break from drafting.

We got a later start leaving Del Rio and we were on bikes by 9:00 am. We needed to have some recovery time from yesterday, but this likely meant we would be riding into the dark again. We didn’t have any turns on the road, so we just rode on hwy 90 the whole day.

The first 30 miles to Comstock were pretty. We hung out in Comstock for quite a while and ate our sandwiches and filled up on water. We weren’t certain about water stops the rest of the day. I always get nervous eating lunch so early in the day as we still had 90 miles left. But I was on the “copy the pro” program and just ate when Colin did. Ultimately, having the fuel in my body was best.  

Comstock to Langtry was a TOUGH and slow 30 miles. It gassed us both. We rolled into Langtry and went to the visitor’s center and ate some snacks, sat on a bench, filled up water, and took a much needed shade and wind-sheltered pit stop. Keeping up with Colin became much harder today with all the additional wind challenges. 

The temperature was warm today. Low of 60 and high of 85. The heat took it out of me midday and I had a difficult time keeping up with my salt intake. Overall, I ate and hydrated well, but it was nearly impossible to do while riding, so I would stuff myself at our stops. Colin wasn’t sure there was a water stop in Langtry or Dryden, so we carried max water all day. We needed it anyway, but of course this added more weight.

Langtry to Dryden was 40 miles and it was late in the day. The wind was just abusive. I am shocked I hung on to Colin’s pace the whole time and even more shocked I didn’t crash into his bike. The wind had picked up (as wind does throughout the day) and was blowing me around so much it was tough to control my bike at times. I was half-wheeling him to attempt to get a draft while fighting and battling the loud and ripping wind. I couldn’t believe I was able to prevent a collision between my front wheel and him. It was so hard my body aches and pains were quieted because I felt like I was in fight or flight mode. “Must keep up to survive.” 

I must have had some amount of draft at times, but it felt so difficult to find any shelter from the wind and I was working so hard to maintain pace.

When we got to Dryden I could not WAIT to be at the store. Not because I wanted to get anything, but store vibes felt comforting, like permission to take a break from it all. I realized I was verging on bonking so I found a little shade spot, plopped myself on the ground, and snacked on some chips, drank electrolytes, and just enjoyed the peace and quiet out of the wind. Colin bought some snacks and water for us and we finally rallied for the final stretch to Sanderson. 

Only 21 miles left! It was a push. It got dark. There was a lot of climbing. I was out of my saddle for a good 15%-20% of the day. Changing my position on such long days felt good. I used to think being out of the saddle was like “cheating” somehow. Colin gets out of his saddle all the time and I copied him. He told me to think of it like running on my bike. Stretching out my legs and changing things up always made a significant difference once I figured out the right cadence for the various out of saddle positions. 

Finally, we arrived in Sanderson and there was exactly one food spot (a BBQ food truck). I called and asked if they could do anything without meat and they made us vegan tostadas (which they called chalupas). We feasted on that, plus Soylent and other snacks from the day. The Desert Air Motel was pretty cute and 5x better than our lodging in Del Rio. We were both so spent. I’ve never seen Colin so blasted. 

I thought I would eat two chalupas and have one for the next day, but to my surprise it was a three chalupa kind of dinner. I washed my bike shorts one last time and hung out the ones from the day before to finish drying for the morning. Despite having some Coca-Cola in Dryden, I had no issue combatting the caffeine and passing out.

Day 4: 111 miles. Sanderson to Marfa

I had a tough morning and felt fragile emotionally. I realized I was behind on nutrition and should have consumed my Soylent immediately upon awakening and waited too long to eat breakfast. Colin and I have a running joke about how I need to be better about eating breakfast on adventures. I put off drinking Soylent because we would be eating at a cafe.

We went to the cafe around 9:00 am but the temps were cold so we decided to hang out at the cafe in town until 10:00 am to let the weather warm up a bit. I still started with a buff, vest, arm warmers, toe covers, and full gloves. It was just the right amount of layering.

The first 50 mile push to Marathon wasn’t easy. There was wind and it was mostly uphill, which meant a slower pace. Colin seemed a bit rushed because he made plans with friends to meet us in Marathon. Our dynamic shifted from being present and together to now thinking ahead and coordinating to host others. A woman named Saeko (an avid triathlete) planned to ride with us the last 60 miles from Marathon to Marfa. We would be staying with Saeko and her partner David at David’s house in Marfa.

I was able to find my draft pocket MUCH easier today as the roads were straighter and the wind less variable. There was still a crosswind, but this time, I was able to draft on the shoulder side which felt much safer and less stressful. 

I had so many conversations with the wind this morning. I felt this overwhelming feminine support from the wind, as opposed to it being a force to push and battle against. I allowed the wind goddess energy to put me in the exact right spot to get optimal draft, which would only happen if I relaxed and felt a positive energy toward the wind. The small amount of relaxing and surrendering to the wind force was a beautiful space to play in. Sometimes it meant tucking in closely to Colin. Other times it meant soft pedaling until the sounds softened just enough, pushing me further away and back. She always placed me where I needed to be and when I was most in tune with her, my draft was perfect. 

And just when I would hit a near effortless rhythm in my pocket, oftentimes Colin would change his positioning and stand up or get in aero bars, which meant I needed to adjust again. But it was a fun puzzle even though it required immense focus, some amount of relaxing, and a lot of power and strength.  

When we finally arrived at Marathon I could feel Colin relax some. We ate a late lunch, took a nice, long, break and then set out on our way to Alpine with Saeko. 

Saeko is an accomplished and dedicated triathlete but wasn’t as accustomed to drafting, so she emulated what I was doing with Colin, but with me as her draft. It was exciting have a new variable in the mix as it changed the dynamic. We hauled pretty swiftly in one straight shot to Alpine. I felt good. Nutrition and hydration were on point and we were only 25 miles from the finish line! I kind of couldn’t believe it.

We stopped at a grocery store for water and bathrooms in Alpine and then headed out. When I left the grocery store, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t ride my bike. “Did I forget how to ride my bike? Come on legs! Do what you’ve always done. Why is this SO HARD?” 

I knew stopping and starting took some time to warm up again, the temperatures were dropping, and we were 85 miles into our day (and 460 miles cumulative), so perhaps this is just what happens when you push your body like this? Maybe I found my limit and my legs were done? I was breathing SO HARD. Like near my max effort just to fall off of Colin’s wheel. Nothing made sense about how badly I was doing. 

I made us pull over to catch my breath multiple times. My heart was pounding out of my chest at VO2 Max. I could tell Colin was a bit annoyed with the stopping. I kept hearing a sound on my bike that didn’t seem right, but it wasn’t my faulty derailleur which had been ghost shifting the whole ride. 

We kept pulling over for me to catch my breath. I just couldn’t breathe. I was working SO HARD. Why?! Asthma? Elevation? I had been coughing last night. Bronco spasm again? My inhaler was in Colin’s saddle bag which he sent to Marfa with David back in Marathon, so we were without that for the first time all ride. 

Colin assumed it was my asthma acting up when I was breathing so heavily, but we didn’t really check in with each other. We were so close to the end. I finally said to Colin at one of our stops “y’all go on without me. It’s only 17 more miles. I can make it, but I have to go at my own pace. I can’t keep up for some reason.” Colin didn’t bite and said “that sounds like a trap. We’ll slow down.”

Even the small downhill sections of the long climb up the pass were nearly impossible. I was burning through all my energy so quickly since I was working at my max effort. WHY?! I really hated holding them back so much and mentally, I completely unraveled. The negative thoughts were compounded by how hard I was working and how quickly I was depleting any fuel reserves. I was on the absolute brink of tears, but felt alone in my struggle, so mustered everything I could and more to find more strength. I lost all ability to problem solve as I was on the brink of complete meltdown and every cell was needed to stay upright and pedal. I needed my teammate to help me, but he was focused on being done already and getting to Marfa before dark.

I finally said to Colin “I think I have a flat tire.” He asked me “which one?” Of course, I had no idea. I hadn’t heard my tire pop or go flat, it just dawned on me that the downhills were challenging, the road noise was so loud, and probably one of my tires was flat. Couldn’t we just pull over and evaluate the situation? He told me to ride up next to him so he could look at my back tire. “Nope, not flat.” Then he looked at my front but couldn’t tell. He told me to hop on my bike to feel if there was any bounce to check for a flat. This was the final straw for me. I can’t hop on my bike normally, but especially not right now! I was done. We were climbing up a mountain pass and I was clearly having a massive problem. Would pulling over to assess me and my bike take so much time away from … from what? This is not a race! Why didn’t we have time to check in? He got frustrated with me for not being more bike savvy and not jumping on my bike. 

I realized I had lost the teammate I had for the previous 465 miles and was on my own now. He told me “you’re probably just feeling it.” True, I thought. The surfaced changed so the sounds were different, surely the sound I was hearing wasn’t a bike problem, but just the road we were on and I was just spent from breathing so hard. I felt ashamed that it appeared to him that I was trying to blame my poor performance on a bike issue. I was quite literally gaslighting myself and convincing myself that my experience wasn’t real. 

Colin said the climbing would be over in a few miles and we would stop there. Finally, nearing the top of the climb up the long pass, I put my foot down and demanded we stop. We did at the guardrail at the top. 

I wish I hadn’t been in such a dark place mentally and emotionally going up that pass as it was BEAUTIFUL. The evening light, sunset, and mountainous terrain made for such epic riding. But I was in a deep cave of self doubt, feeling weak, and like a total failure, which after 90 miles in a day can kind of wreck you. 

When we stopped, Saeko announced “she has a flat front tire!”no words were exchanged and luckily I kept my tire changing kit and all my stuff when David had offered to take it in Marathon. 

O.M.G.!!!! I had been riding on a flat front tire for 13 miles uphill and gassed myself entirely. Colin swiftly took care of it and suddenly everything felt right again. “Oh! THIS is what riding a bike is supposed to feel like! I hadn’t felt this since leaving Alpine. Every ailment disappeared instantly. I was fine. My body strong. My breathing and lungs okay. My heart rate normalized. Relieved I could still call myself an athlete, I chuckled to myself and realized I was kind of a badass for doing all of that on a flat tire. 

It was now dark and we had lights on and we had a much welcomed tailwind! We also had a nice gentle downhill into the Marfa valley and I began to recover emotionally. My body instantly knew what to do and executed with ease, but my mind was still in a dark hole and I needed to coax her out. I did. 

We finally rolled into Marfa and landed at David and Saeko’s beautiful home. I got off my bike and David was there to greet us. He gave me a congratulatory hug and I burst into tears. Big, fat, expressive tears. Tears of relief, tears of release, tears of joy, tears of pride, just tears. It was now over. 

I showered and was happy to realize that the saddle chafing had been mitigated all day and nothing new had arisen. Saeko and David had delicious dinner awaiting us and we ate a warm home-cooked meal with wonderful  company. I was unsure how I would manage sleeping with the caffeine intake during the afternoon, but just like the day before, I didn’t have issues falling asleep. 

Recovery and Afterthoughts:

My rib took another month to finally turn a corner and not cause me pain regularly. As of today, I hardly feel anything from it anymore. Phew!

I’ve been experiencing asthma at night and realize it always manifests as coughing. The out-of-breath feeling I had after Alpine was just me working way too hard, not asthma at all. I wasn't wheezing of coughing, just out of breath from high heart rate and exertion.

It took me two and a half weeks to be able to run after the bike trip. My quads would seize up whenever I went downhill. On a bike, one experiences concentric fatigue in the quads, whereas running downhill is an elongating fatigue on the quads (eccentric). I remembered this issue from my bike racing year when I tried to run the Cap 10k in the middle of the race season. I had to walk and lost all functionality of my quads from the downhill running. I had always assumed I could run a 10k in my sleep, but intense cycling can alter running ability!

When I began running again, I realized I had lost all of my foot skin toughness/callouses. However, my toenails were grateful to not feel any pain at all!

The winter in Austin is nice enough to do run training, but generally a little cold for my taste to do bike training. So, the first day I had a “good run” (meaning no cramping!) I signed up for the Big Bend 50 mile ultramarathon in January. With a five week lead time (and three weeks to actually train, because, taper…), I’ve been ramping up my running. Is it ideal 50 mile training? Definitely not. But it has provided some structure to keep going. Barring any massive lung issues, I am confident I will make the distance. Toe blisters are another concern. But my mind got tougher than it already was on the trek to Marfa, so I think I can mentally handle the 50 mile distance (its my first time racing or runnning this distance!).

There’s some amount of imposter syndrome I’m contending with in the aftermath of the great ride. Was I only able to do it because I had a draft the whole way? With running, I will have no question about if I did it or not, because there will be no pacers and there is no draft advantage. Maybe I feel like I need to prove to myself I can do hard things still? 

I’ve had a lot of failures recently (as one does when you set out for really long events) and this epic bike tour was a win for me. But, I had help… I had a draft and a ride leader.

It all made me reflect on the cohesion of a team, even a two person team. Colin and I were a great team for most of the ride. We were locked in and completely in sync. Day 4, the team fractured as the ride leader switched gears into host mode by bringing in another rider, and I still needed a teammate in the last 25 miles when things fell apart. Teammates and adventure partners can be so powerful and I can certainly achieve more with a true teammate, but when there is a fissure, the energy of focusing on anything outside of the mission and each other can have compounding effects if something goes wrong.

This bike tour taught me so much. It was the first time I've really utilized a teammate in this way for such an intense effort. I've mostly been a part of larger teams in my athletic history, and more recently resorted to solo efforts. Working together with someone else is pretty incredible. It was inspiring and I am intrigued to see how I might incorporate more teammates into my life and adventures.

New adventures that require teammates that I'm dabbling in include two-step dancing, a kayaking trip, and perhaps another bike-packing trip (on gravel?).