Day 11 West Wendover, Nevada to Salt Lake City, Utah 118 miles 1400 feet of climbing

well, i gave it the "old college try" as the expression goes.

having no idea how well my shoulder would hold out, i woke up and conducted the same morning routine as on any other day during this ride.  stretched as best i could, met everyone for breakfast [i think i should have put money in the local pool that was running to see if i was even going to show up!], and prepped for the ride out of nevada.

i was stiff as hell, both in my legs and well as my right shoulder.  but there wasn't much pain, so i took that as a good sign.  better still, i had a bit more range of motion in my right shoulder than i did the day before.  but it still felt kind of dead.

given the extremely long day and the anticipated headwinds, we were leaving nevada for the last time just as the sun was rising above the salt flats.  it was actually quite a beautiful sight to see the morning sun coming over both the flats in the distance and the last of the escarpments in nevada.

the sunrise in the distance, we head out of nevada and into the utah salt flats

as we were staying on the frontage rode for a couple of miles, once again as i'd experienced on the louisiana/mississippi border, the "welcome to..." signs didn't exist as they would on a major highway.  instead, we got another line in the road.  this time, however, nevada and utah had the good sense to paint their borderline on the road surface instead of a mere chalk outline as in the aforementioned southern states.

the famous speedway was just a couple of miles off the highway.  another look at the "ocean" alongside the road.

about two miles into the ride, we returned to the shoulders of I-80 and started down the long stretches of the salt flats.  these broad swathes of land are amazing.  in some areas, they are covered with water and look like we're riding along the shoreline of some ocean.   in other areas, they look like the parched remains of some long-forgotten, drought-stricken civilization with nothing but broken down fencing or other vestiges of long lost life.

casting a giant shadow on the salt flats

i think i was successful in riding the first twelve miles of the day because i was powered by pure adrenaline.  when i tested my shoulder in my room before heading downstairs for breakfast, it seemed like i'd be able to manage the pressure of my upper body weight on the handlebars.  at breakfast, i soon became aware that i'd be eating left-handed as i couldn't bring my right hand up to my mouth.  still, i figured i didn't need to do that much lifting of my right arm, so i would still give it a shot.

however, twelve miles out [i would have gone farther, but that happened to be a highway rest area], i realized this wasn't going to work.  being right-handed, i would pick up my water bottles with my right hand to drink throughout the rides.  this morning, i quickly realized that i couldn't lift my bottles up to my mouth.  and the contortions i went through to duck down low enough to be able to drink would only work when my bottle was topped off.  as soon as the water levels in the bottle got lower, i still wouldn't be able to life them up high enough to draw water out of them.  and using my left hand, instead, to pick them up put too much pressure on my right shoulder, holding the handlebars.  it wasn't so much the pain.  that was just a dull sensation.  rather, it was the simple lack of being able to lift my arm.

still, the thing that really made me realize this was a fool's errand was in just holding the handlebars.  during a typical ride, i'll move the position of my hands along the handlebars every two or three miles.  it might be just to break up the monotony of the ride, to change the pressure points on my hands, or to readjust my hands to better manage a head or cross wind.  in any case, that simple act requires actually picking up my hands and moving them to another position along the handlebars.  that simple act of picking up my right hand wasn't working either.  in order to move my right hand, i was actually "walking" my fingers from one position to another.  at first, while it was an inconvenience, it didn't seem like such a big deal.  four or five times later, i was quickly coming to the conclusion that today's ride was about to do the same...come to a conclusion.  the sight of the upcoming rest area sealed the deal.  this was no longer smart.  this was no longer valiant.  this was now both stupid and, potentially, dangerous.

nothing for miles except scenery like this

so, with head hung low, i pulled off the highway and into the rest area.  as it was very early in the day's ride, both sag vans were also in the rest area, coordinating with each other as to where and when to set up the first pit stop.  i also think at least one of the crew had a good suspicion that i might be making an appearance soon enough.

i got off my bike, explained my situation and went to sit in one of the support vans, dejected.  through the most bizarre of incidents, my ride was over.  well, at least this day's ride.  there was always hope that i'd feel better in the morning.

the rest of the day was spent with andy kaplan, helping him and the other riders as a support van.  given that there were only two support vehicles, there wasn't an option to drive the two plus hours into salt lake city to get a further check up on my condition.  both vans were needed on the road.  so i popped advil during the course of the day and applied multiple ice packs to my various injured parts.  with the bags of ice on my shoulder underneath my bike jersey, i looked like quasimodo.

that's the great salt lake ahead of us. unfortunately, there was no higher vantage point to take a better shot, but trust me, it's huge!

it was interesting to see life from the other side of the bicycle for the remainder of the day.  i helped andy set up the first pit stop, forty miles out from the day's start.  there, i had a phone call with my physical therapist [my orthopod was on holiday -- yes, it's odd that i have both on speed dial -- kind of tells you that i've been through all this a number of times in the past].  i took todd through my symptoms and lack of range of motion in my shoulder.  being a cyclist himself and knowing that i really wanted to continue this ride, if at all possible, todd advised me accordingly.  he was basically telling me my changes of continuing were slim and none, but just the simple act of talking with him made me feel a bit better about my condition.  it also was good to bounce ideas off of him.  in the end, i was to call him again tomorrow to report on my conditions, including any progress or deterioration.  like i said, there was always hope.

with one good, working arm, the rest of the day was spent helping fill water bottles, playing "name that tune" with andy as we were driving, listening to either oldies or alternative rock stations, and picking up riders along the way who would abandon the day's ride.

i mentioned earlier that headwinds were anticipated for today's ride.  that's kind of an understatement.  as long and as hot as today's ride was going to be, the one common prayer that each rider had from the days leading up to today's ride was for a tailwind today.  it apparently doesn't happen often along this particular stretch of road, but it's something everyone wished for.  desperately wished for.  considering trading in your first born child for.  instead, what we got was a very mild headwind to start the day.  nothing to move the flags too much, but enough to refresh your face.  as the morning drew on, the winds began to pick up speed.  at first, they merely rattled the signs and occasionally stiffened the flags.  however, by noontime, we were passing signs warning of "high wind zones."  even the fastest of our riders were battling intensely strong headwinds.  bud and ken, our two strongest riders, hit the first pit stop doing a mere 16 miles per hour.  that's easily five miles off of their normal average speed.  and we were only 40 miles into the ride and the winds hadn't picked up their full intensity yet.

before the second rest stop, there was a tiny town called "delle."  nothing much in this dry, dusty little oasis between the highway and the salt flats but a gas station and convenience store.  a delightful man, who was very encouraging of our riders, and his son run the place.  nothing fancy, but a much needed respite for the riders before the second pit stop at mile marker 90.  there, every rider came in an, basically, bathed themselves in whatever cold liquids they chose.  some riders actually purchased a bag of ice, both for their drinks and for themselves, even stuffing ice cubes down their sleeves.  [maybe that this point, it would be good to remind you all that not everyone on the ride wore short-sleeve shirts, even during long, hot rides.  there was another school of thought that had some riders wearing thin, long-sleeve jerseys that they constantly wet down during their rides.  they insisted the wet sleeves kept them more refreshed than short sleeves.  and since those folks are still out on the course, who's to argue!]

by the second pit stop, at 90 miles, five other riders had called it quits.  the winds, by now, were no long blowing, they were gusting.  and no longer were they just headwinds.  from delle to the 90-mile marker, the winds would change direction in a split second, from cross to tail to head and back again.  there was no way to determine where it would come from next and, when it was a crosswind, many of the riders found themselves riding with their bikes on a severe angle into the wind.  it was quite unpleasant and yet, i saluted those to even got this far.  i was utterly amazed at those to were able to complete the 118 miles of the day.

eventually, andy and i made it back to the hotel.  there, i unloaded my bike and picked up my bags, just as i'd do at the end of every other day's ride.  however, this felt different as i was acutely aware that there was probably not going to be a "tomorrow's ride."