Tour Divide part 2.

In part one of our Tour Divide write up I mentioned something that nearly put an end to our aspirations to finish the ride. Here’s part two. 

After Tom’s blip in motivation, he committed to finishing the Divide. This in some ways put some extra pressure on me. I’m 53 and was suffering with saddle sores, and knees that took it in turns to hurt lots. I’d always thought of myself as the weak link on these trips in the last couple of years. 

I’d developed a bit of a sniffle and cough, the sort of thing that if you were at home it  would stay for a couple of days and then clear up. Riding for 12 plus hours a day though gave the body little time or resources to repair what would normally be a minor complaint.

I tried to keep my ailment to myself though on a couple of occasions Tom asked if I was going to die as my coughing threatened to eject my lungs on to the road.

I was trying to take it easy, though I was aware that our planned goal of 30 days was reliant on big days.

As we rode towards the Great Basin I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe after having a coughing fit. Surely it would be better the following day though?

If I wasn’t riding I was OK, but as soon as I started riding again I’d have to be careful not to breathe hard or I’d start coughing. A particularly annoying type of cough where there was never any product or resolution at the end of the cough, just an itchy throat that itched the coughing to continue.

I was trying to ignore my situation, but the reality was that I was not getting better but worse. I’ve taken my daughter to hospital a number of times when she was younger as she struggled for breath as an asthma sufferer. A responsible adult should take me to hospital. I was determined that we were going to finish this ride. A conflict of interest.

Would my body let me finish this ride? Was I being foolish and putting my health at risk in pursuance of this goal? Maybe. I kept all this to myself though. Tom was motivated again to ride to the finish, though he would have advised the sensible thing, and that was to stop riding and go and see a doctor as would my family and friends who were following our trip. I kept on riding though. Tom and I had a deal, and I was doing my best to keep to my end of it.

 I was struggling on the hills with my shortness of breath for sure, but on one particular afternoon the route was flat. Great? Yes, but there was a killer head wind which whipped up loads of dust. That combination of wind and dust and I was really struggling to breathe. I was also having dizzy spells. 

I didn’t want to wreck our dream of finishing the Divide, but I also knew that I was not getting better.

If I made it to the next town Salida without resorting to having to press the SOS button on our satelIite tracker I was going to have to find a doctor.

As we rolled down the hill to Salida we were greeted by Brian Steele and Jacqueline (Billy Rice’s Mum) I was struggling to talk properly to them my throat was so sore.

The following morning instead of jumping on our bikes and heading for the hills, first we had a sleep in. Tom liked that. Then we headed for the Medical Centre. The doctor after various tests decided that I had a lung thingy called pneumonitis. He explained the most effective treatment was at least a week of rest. I explained that this was a less than ideal treatment as we were riding to the Mexican border. He told me he was used to awkward patients and that he may be able to prescribe some medicine that may assist in my recovery.

20 minutes on a machine inhaling salbutamol followed by a course of tablets and an inhaler to go.

I was happy that the  diagnosis wasn’t anything more serious, though I was told that if I wasn’t better within 5 days that I must find another doctor.

We left Salida some time after midday in the direction of Marshall Pass one of the big climbs of the Divide.

The wind was in our faces again so we were pleased to see somewhere to stop for a drink, though only a few miles out of town. At the Elevation Brewery at Poncho Springs we stopped, relaxed and enjoyed the company of the staff and customers, and yes we had a few drinks.

I was beyond relieved that we were going to be able to continue our ride, but urgency beyond making sure we made it to Antelope Wells in time to get a flight home was waning.

That evening we made it over Marshall Pass and onto Sargents, a half day riding but definetely a day of progress.

Onwards.

…...to be continued.