We woke up at 7:30am, and my whole body felt very heavy, dizzy, and feverish.  I splashed cold water on my face to wake up, and then walked a few circles around the hotel room to check on my legs.  Even after 330 miles, they felt fairly fresh aside from some mild quad soreness. Overusing my quad muscles is a recurrent problem for me, so this wasn’t surprising.

We didn’t make it out of the hotel until 8:10am, and since we were completely out of food we immediately needed to restock.  Chris requested that we stop at Mcdonalds for some “real” breakfast food. I don’t know what he’s talking about, Doritos and jerky make the perfect balanced meal! I will not hide my distaste for the situation. My 2nd least favorite thing to do during a high mileage bikepacking trip is to eat food while stopped, and my very least favorite thing to do is to eat breakfast sitting down before even getting any miles in for the day.  When we are at our best we sleep hard, use that extra sleep to ride harder and faster during the day, and almost never stop except for photos. It’s not even necessarily a race strategy, I just really like the feeling of continuous movement. As soon as I stop, I start noticing that I’m tired.  In life I’m never NOT exhausted, except when I’m riding my bike.

Today wasn’t starting off on a good foot.  The sun was way too high in the sky for us to just be starting for the day.  To make matters worse, we’d end up spending a full 30 minutes at McDonald’s. I ordered too many sandwiches, but instead of eating them I spent that time force feeding myself orange juice and hash brown bits with my head in my hands.  The woman who rang us up was very sweet and talkative, but I just wasn’t in the mood. She gave me advice on using Neutrogena sunscreen so that I wouldn’t get burned. She also told us about a racer who had ordered 4 large fries the previous day.  [Chris: I would absolutely do this if you weren’t there to witness it] We were the only patrons in the store, so she kept coming over to our seats to talk to us again and again and again.

We finally hit the road out of town at 8:45am, and the day already felt wasted. Side note: the extreme racers only sleep 2-4 hours per night and sometimes skip sleep entirely. We had originally planned on shooting for 5-6 hours per night but updated that target to 8 due to my illness. For the most part races are NOT won by riding fast, but rather by staying on your bike longer than anyone else. Chris and I somewhat make up for the extra sleep by keeping stops quick and efficient throughout the day, rarely sitting down for a meal. However, our morning and evening hotel routines were huge times wasters during the race. In general, the preference would be to get on the road at sunrise and ride until sunset.

As we moved along, I spent some time grieving again. After such a successful day 2, for a brief beautiful moment  I had hoped that maybe all this was behind me. I hadn’t expected the symptoms to kick back up again so quickly. I knew that if I wanted to continue racing, I HAD to get full nights of sleep and not push my body too hard.  Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed that I wasn’t capable of more. I gave myself a pep talk about racing my own race, and reminded myself that I was lucky to be out here at all.  

It wasn’t too difficult to adjust my attitude after I glanced behind me and realized we were privy to a stunning view of the Three Sisters mountain range, which had been hidden in darkness during our late arrival.  This area of Oregon almost had a bit of a cowboy feel to it. The scenery had changed abruptly: sparse evergreens were giving way to scraggly brush, vast open spaces, and sandy hills. Without cover from the sun and the temperature reaching the upper 80s, it felt like we were on a different planet.  The scenery would change multiple times a day, every day during the rest of our time in Oregon.  

The 20 miles between Sisters and Redmond are very slightly downhill overall, and we used these easy miles to discuss the upcoming day.  Once again we were stuck with lodging choices at undesirable distances. The Spoke’n Hostel in Mitchell was only 90 miles away, and according to our services spreadsheet the next lodging was the Blue Mountain Lodge in Mount Vernon, another 60 miles past Mitchell.  It should be no issue to ride another 150 miles, but given our late start we might not arrive in Mount Vernon until 2am. What’s worse, I was once again starting to experience excruciating pain in my head, sternum, mid back, and pelvis. It felt like someone was taking my stomach and wringing it out in their hands.  I knew that on days like this, my symptoms tended to get worse as the day went on, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be capable of riding that late into the night.  

We decided that the best way to make the most of this situation would be to give me a moving rest day of sorts, and to temporarily switch into touring mode.  We wouldn’t worry about keeping pace for a long day, and we would see how we felt when we arrived at Mitchell. I popped a Tylenol, trying to get my mind off the pain as best I could.  Luckily, my knees were still cooperating, minus a very occasional small twinge.

45 miles in, we stopped in Prineville for lunch at a burger joint called the Tastee Treet, because that’s what a tourist would do!  After ordering at the counter, Chris ran off to pick up water from the 7-11 across the street. Meanwhile I enjoyed a standoff with the meanest tiny dog ever.  This pup was sitting underneath its owners chair at the patio table right next to where I wanted to be. Every time I tried to sit down, it would try to attack me, and the humans weren’t doing very much to stop it.  Finally, I realized that if I approached my table from the opposite direction and backed into it facing away from the dog, I could finally sit down. The rest of the meal, every time I shifted in my seat the dog growled at me.

My fries were too salty and soggy, and my chocolate shake was too thick to drink.  Still, the meal helped me with my attitude adjustment, and I even took a moment to lean back in my chair, soaking in the fresh air.  

It was already around 1pm by the time we left Prineville, covered in a fresh layer of sunblock and sun sleeves.  From here, the route climbs 2,000 feet over 30 miles. The hills begin to close in on you as you climb, striped with reddish soil.  I had driven on this road a few years back during a family road trip, but it had been too dark to see anything except black giants blotting out the stars.  I turned on my big cycling playlist and settled into a good steady climbing rhythm. At some point, “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas came on, and very confusingly the song made me start crying with joy (???).  Alrighty then. [Chris: Alrighty then.]

About halfway up, we noticed a kind soul had left a bench and cold water on the side of the road, with a note welcoming Transamerica Trail cyclists.  I was a bit sweaty, so we appreciated the temporary shade. Suddenly, this had turned into another really good day, and I set worries about the future aside in favor of enjoying the present.  

We showed up at the Spoke’n Hostel around 5:30 pm.  All the hostel workers came outside to cheer for us and videotape our arrival.  I was grinning from ear to ear, and so incredibly thankful for the beautiful TABR community holding all us racers up.  It’s fleeting moments like this that really make life feel rich, and I knew as soon as I jumped off my bike that this is where we should be staying for the evening.  Race be damned. Just like pushing onward had been the right decision the night before, stopping short was absolutely the best decision tonight.  

Everyone commented about how good we both looked and how happy I was compared to all the other racers who had come through that day. We were almost certainly the two most well rested individuals in the entire race. Maybe, just maybe, we were making good decisions that would allow us to get all the way to the finish line in Yorktown.

I distinctly remember that one of the first things I saw upon dismounting was Kymberly standing in the doorway looking quite ill and exhausted.  I was not expecting to see her here; she had a superhero quality of not needing much sleep and I assumed I’d never get to see her again after the starting line. During training this spring, she often started multi-day rides with an all-nighter after working a full day. Or she’d ride for 30 hours straight and follow it up with an afternoon of volunteering.  I looked forward to catching up with her, but feared that she’d be feeling disappointed in her progress.

We tiptoed quietly into the hostel, into a room full of riders napping in bunk beds to delicately balance our bikes against a bench.  We slipped into hostel-provided flip flops and moved downstairs to see who else was around. Kymberly and Kevin were both sitting at the main table, and neither looked particularly happy.  I sat down next to Kym and gave her the biggest hug, trying to avoid her heavily burned back.  

“This is SO much harder than I thought it would be,” she said.

It turns out she was fairly heat sick and struggling with the big climbs, pulling over frequently to throw up.  In stark contrast to our positive experiences of the day, some jerk had yelled at her to get off his property while she was on the side of the road trying to find respite from the sun and a place to vomit.  Kevin was faring a bit better, but was exhausted from a mostly failed attempt to bivvy near the base of Santiam the evening prior. Both were disappointed with their performance so far, and both of them were angry at the behavior of drivers.  The first 5 miles heading out of Prineville was specifically mentioned – and I’d have to agree that the combination of lack of shoulder plus impatient semi trucks in that section proved to be a bit nerve wracking. Overall, however, I had found the route to be mostly safe and pleasant so far, with more low traffic roads than I was accustomed to. 

I have to imagine that day 3 was challenging for a lot of people out there.  The newness of the race wears off and your decisions from the first few days begin to take their toll.  You start to realize that this race is really, REALLY long and you are already abnormally exhausted. When sleep deprived, the actions of community dwellers and drivers along the route have an inordinate ability to completely ruin your day.  Everything feels harder and more serious than it normally would.

Kymberly tried to force herself back out onto the road, and everyone else at the hostel tried hard to convince her to stay.  Her coloring was still a bit off, and I was worried about her safety. She felt like a failure, and it broke my heart. All we wanted was for her to be safe, and I’m certain that all her loved ones back home felt the same way.  She thought that she was letting others down, but meanwhile my only thought was that she was a hero for sticking it out when the going got tough. I hoped a solid night of sleep would give her the perspective she needed.  

The evening passed quite quickly after that.  We played with two pups named Juniper and Lilly.  We both got in showers, and ate lentils and pasta for dinner.  Crowell came downstairs to chat for a moment before heading back out on the road.  Dan, Brad, and others all woke up from their naps, and soon there were only 5 or 6 riders left for the night.   I allowed myself to peek at our family group chat, and saw that they were having a spirited discussion around what they were allowed to say to us and what would constitute cheating.  I also received this lovely photoshopped image:

We took time to talk with every volunteer at the hostel, which was one of the ultimate highlights of my whole race.  They asked us about what we were most excited for, and I said that there was a scene from the Inspired to Ride documentary that I thought was really beautiful.  I didn’t know where it was, but I’d recognize it when I saw it. We chatted about our plan to ride to Baker City the next day, and they advised us to stop at the Austin Junction cafe.  They taught us how to pronounce all the local names that we had been getting wrong (Santiam is pronounced Sant-ee-am, not San-tchahm).

Due to the number of racers napping upstairs when we arrived, the hostel actually granted us a private room with a double bed down on the lower level.  Between the talking, and the amount of time spent walking back and forth between that room and our bikes while getting ready for bed, the hours flew by and all of a sudden it was 8:30pm.  We had spent THREE HOURS at the hostel that evening. Once again, I was really enjoying myself but I was also frustrated and disappointed in myself for not acting like a racer. I should have been in bed early so that we could get up at 1 or 2am to ride.  I felt so unsure of myself. I KNEW I was holding back, but I didn’t know what was going on with my body and didn’t want to do something that would send me into a tailspin. Was this a smart decision, or was this me using illness as a cop out? 

I tried to quiet my fears and fall asleep.  I was initially successful after about half an hour, but then I woke up 2 hours later and couldn’t get back to sleep the rest of the night.  I tossed back and forth until our alarms went off at 4am, in a lot of pain and more confused than ever about how hard I should be pushing myself in the race.