EFI

Today's Google Earth file: http://tomerceg.googlepages.com/Topekaks.kmz

We have a little acronym we use around here called EFI. It's the code word for having ridden the entire trip. "E" stands for Every. "I" stands for Inch. "F" can mean fun, or fantastic, or, well, insert your F-word of choice.

Up until today my EFI status was still intact. Now the purists may argue that the 15 mile jump I took over the road tar in Arizona negates my EFI status. I don't care. I actually modified the acronym a little to call it EFRI, for every, er, "fun", RIDEABLE inch. 15 miles of wet road tar was not rideable. If it had been a mile I would have thrown my bike on my shoulder and walked it, but 15 miles in 103 degree Arizona sun was not an option.

After seeing the weather report last night I was ready to accept a jump if neccessary. Before even starting the trip I had decided that I wasn't going to do anything to risk my health or safety, and if I needed to take a break I would. A funny thing happens after you've ridden halfway across the U.S. though. Now the idea of riding every inch has become really important to me.

The weather report for today called for a chance of thunderstorms, 90 degress temps, and winds starting at 20 MPH and building to 30 MPH with gusts as high as 60 MPH. Not exactly optimal weather for a 105 mile ride.

Here's my normal training plan for days with high winds: Set up my mag trainer, put on a movie, and spin away in my bedroom. I don't ride in this stuff. Ever. To be honest I was genuinely scared at the start of the ride.

Turns out I was scared for good reason. Today was pretty terrifying most of the day. The steady crosswinds were bad enough. I'd lay the bike over at an angle in order to keep going straight. The gusts were really scary though. It felt like the wind was grabbing the front wheel and shaking it. At times the bike was almost impossible to control. Fortunately today's route took us on largely untravelled roads, so there weren't a lot of cars to contend with.

The ride between the two SAG stops was, well, I'd call it unrideable except most of us rode it. We blew all over the road. I went downhill at 12 MPH because that was the only speed that allowed me to keep control. One gust of wind blew me across the entire road surface. I clipped out and slammed on the brakes. Even when the bike was stopped the wind still blew me farther across the road. I had to walk to shelter in order to get rolling again.

As I approached the 2nd SAG I'd decided that my day was done. Here we are about 5 miles from there, taking a break from the wind behind a brick wall.

The wind exhausts you in several ways. It physically wears you out. It's mentally taxing thinking about it constantly all day long. The roaring noise is just deafening. I swore I heard voices on the wind. I think they were saying "quite riding, you moron...", but that might have been my imagination.

As I pulled into the SAG I was done. EFI was to be no more. That was fine though. It was the only choice that made sense. As I sat at the SAG the fear receeded and I started to reconsider. A lot of the last 30 miles was downwind. I'd already survived this far. I've NEVER failed to finish any athletic event I've started. Stubbornness is my only athletic gift, one that is common in this crowd. The idea of bailing out with only 30 miles to go just didn't sit right with me.

I decided that I would ride the first downwind section out of the SAG, and if things were too crazy I'd just sit by the side of the road and wait for the van to come pick me up. At least that way I'd know I'd given it every effort. No regrets that way. Several people decided to call it a day from the SAG spot. I totally understand and respect that decision. It was probably the most sensible choice.

We did find time for at least a little levity while discussing our options.

As things turned out, the last section wasn't nearly as bad as what we'd already done. I found out that the wind was averaging around 31 mph, because going that speed downwind I couldn't feel the wind at all. It was actually quiet.

The cue sheet called out a little restaurant at mile 91, with supposedly really good pie. I told Terry "I'm not stopping for pie. I don't care if it's the best pie on the planet". He didn't hear me and pulled over. So of course I followed. As it turned out this was an excellent diversion. The Cherry pie was indeed great.


Afterwards the general consensus was that this was the worst crosswind anyone had every ridden in. Lifelong riders from places like Texas said these were the worst wind conditions they'd ever faced. There was a truck advisory telling truckers not to drive on the Interstate. My whole body feels like it's still moving, 5 hours after finishing.

I guess I'm proud for having finished today. It wasn't the smartest decision I've ever made. EFI lives on, although I really am not going to let it jeopardize my safety. Throw some rain into this equation and I'm hopping in the van.