(originally posted 2004-Aug-24)

A bunch of guys from a Category up "sandbagged down" to my Cat and pulled me ragged the first lap - on the ragged edge of my abilities.

Then it poured down rain.

Then it poured down rain. Then just as the rain let up on the second lap (about 15 miles into it) a guy went down hard in front of me and rider and bike slid for 20 meters or more across the road. I chose to swerve left, which was bad since he slid left across the pavement in front of me at about 22 mph. I had to run off the road to keep from running over him.

By the time I looked up and got straight the pack was 100 yards or more away and going up/over a hill. I looked at my heart rate monitor - 178 bpm. SHIT! I heard the guy behind me in the middle of the road screaming bloody murder, "My leg, my leg is broken! Oh God, I broke my leg!"

Then I looked back at the pack that was now cresting the hill and out of reach and I said,"F it!"

I walked over to the guy sprawled out in the middle of the wrong side of the road and stood there to keep him from getting run over until the race official (who was a minute or two back with the girls) to get there.

I looked down at the guy and his foot was still in the peddle pointed straight, but his body was rolled over on his back like 180 degrees WRONG. That just wasn't right! He continued to grasp his thigh and scream horribly. I was afraid to touch him, and I knew the paramedics would be there soon. So I didn't. But I couldn't just leave him, either.

A minute or so here comes the official. "What happened?"

"My Goddamned leg is broke! Ahhhhhhh!" the guy screamed.

"Hold still. This will hurt." The official grabs the guy's shoe and twists it so the pedal releases his foot. OH MAN DID THE GUY SCREAM!

"Uh," I said sheepishly. "Y'all are here so I'm gonna ride on out."

"Yeah, good. Thanks." He said.

I hopped on my bike and hammered. By the time I got to the starting line with 1 lap to go, I asked the official at the line, "How far up is the pack?"

"About 4 minutes," he laughed.

"Shit! I'm gonna DNF." I shook my head and pulled off the course and hung out with my wife.

Here is the bad part. 5 or 6 guys in my race came in about a minute or so later with a lap to go. I didn't realize it but they must've gotten dropped off the pack behind me before the crash.

"You shouldn't've quit, you wouldn't have come in last," my wife tells me.

"Shit!" Then the sun came back out.

So there you go. That was my day.

- Doc