Cycling Across America #58
Pain in West Texas
Part 58 of the Cycle-Across-America series. (Read from the start in Boston or see the full index)
This was one of those rare days where I journaled it both on audio tape and in handwritten notes. Regular readers will know the tape transcripts are inaccessible at the moment, so once again I’ll go with brief notes from memory and below the fold revert to the handwritten journal which was more reflective.
After several days resting in Lubbock I felt like I’d had a good look at the place, so on the bike I decided to skirt around it.
I was dropped back at that Texaco garage on the Idalou Highway that comes in to Lubbock from the northeast, so I decided to bypass town to the east and aimed for a turn west of a small town called Posey, about 12 miles away and far enough south that I could then head west without going through the built up areas.
Brownfield was my ultimate destination for the day, about a further 50 miles on and chosen because it was close enough to New Mexico that it would be my last stop in Texas.
I was liking the town names in West Texas. Very no nonsense stuff like Plainview and Brownfield, and now I was about to go through Ropesville and Meadow, with Shallow Water and Levelland to the north, New Home a few miles to the east, and Sundown to the west, naturally.
It was a day of pain. The muscles in my left leg went and I could no longer cycle. I took my left foot out of the toe straps and just let it hang, trying awkwardly to propel the bicycle with just my right leg, pushing down on the pedal and then pulling up on the strap. I’d been here before, where I was like a one-legged frog on a bicycle.
It was discouraging given that this was my first day back cycling after a few days’ rest.
Over the previous few days of television I had been bombarded with pharmaceutical ads, and I recalled seeing one ad with 2 smiling women taking something for pains they got while cycling. So after a few miles of limping jerkily along by way one dead hanging leg and one sore pedalling one, I turned east to Posey - the wrong way - so I could get to a shop and go looking for drugs.
Barely able to walk I was shocked that after a time, about an hour, whether through rest or through the drugs, I was able to cycle again. It was sore, but I could go on. 50 miles to Brownfield.
[More details from this day constitute the rest of this entry and they’re below the fold]
Sunday, October 20th , Brownfield, Texas.
Watching Farm-Aid last night - the concert, a presenter said there was a choice. Did you want families to run America’s farms, or factories? If it was families then you were encouraged to donate through a variety of options. Tonight on the box I saw part of a film featuring the selling off of a family farm’s equipment following foreclosure. It’s a subject that recurs often.
The large blisters are back. Underneath. One inch long, half an inch wide and high. They’re tender.
There seems to be a lot of pain on a daily basis now. My nose is quite sore. Badly burnt, it’s covered in scabs having lost a lot of skin. That said it’s nothing compared to the amount of skin that’s come off my testicles in the last 10 days or so. And I don’t stick my nose on a hard saddle and then grind it with my legs for 8 hours a day.
The last 5 miles today I had a bad stitch or stomach cramp. Even though the sun was falling I still had to stop. The safest place was some gravel on the central median. It was still sore as I reached the motel.
Looking at the forecast for tomorrow all the storms are due to pass just north of here. That said I can hear thunder now. The winds tomorrow are meant to be from the north. As I’m going west and a little bit south that shouldn’t be a problem at all. Storms would be though. The rain’s coming down outside now.
All the restaurants were closed so I resorted to McDonald’s. Tried out one of their new Deluxe sandwiches and concluded it’s the biggest con-job in fast food history. Having quickly established a new classic burger they immediately devalue it by extending the range. I also reckon the “grown-up” aspect of the Arch Deluxe was actually coming from the word “Arch” instead of Mc, so they got it wrong by taking the word “deluxe” to identify the range. Either way, they’re expensive and I reckon bad value for money.
The Latino who served me told me he liked my bracelet. I told him of the Cherokee Nation gift shop in Oklahoma but didn’t really dwell. You can’t in this country when it comes to complements from blokes.
Today was so hard, so horrible, so frustrating that I found myself thinking of stopping. Not considering it at all but thoughts of finishing kept entering my head. When the muscle went and I couldn’t even walk I was thinking that’s it. And everybody would understand. I was injured. I couldn’t go on. It wasn’t like I gave up.
Other times I looked at the lovely 6-inch fluffy grass by the roadside and thought of getting hit again. That would finish the trip too. And I could just be in that appealing grass knowing I wouldn’t have to cycle anymore. But do I have to anyway? I kept remembering a friend saying I’m supposed to have fun. It is fun, it’s just so bloody hard.
Omaha keeps creeping into my head. I’m not sure why. I presume because like a few other places I left it too early. My hosts were such good company, and there was a good feel to the place. More than Amarillo or any other town I’ve been in since. I’ve read of Bodmer a few times since then and I’m glad they introduced me to him.
The oddest bit of television I saw yesterday was watching Bertie Ahern, Mary Hearney, Dick Spring and John Bruton all make statements on Northern Ireland in a Dail session shown by C-SPAN2. So now I’m in touch again and it was all so similar and so depressing. Doubtful I’ll be going home to good news then.
Postcards and a letter for friends at home all need stamps. As does the card for the hospital in Virginia Beach.
Read the Next Entry (#59) in My Bicycle Trip Across America
Read more from my Cycle Across America
Eolaí gan Fhéile:
Jeez, Eolai. I actually snorted out loud. That was a pretty ballsy paragraph! Heh.