Sweeping into Texas

Marcus and I were the assigned sweeps for yesterday's 95 mile ride from Arnett, Oklahoma to Spearman, Texas. I was unaware that this was an infamously difficult day for previous SC2SC trips. The job of sweep is to stay at the back of the pack, carry a med kit and a spare tire, and make sure that no riders are left behind. When one sweep passes the med kit and tire onto the upcoming sweep, they say, "With great power comes great responsibility."

We leave our amazing host site in Arnett, OK last, just as it's starting to rain. About two miles into the ride, a large group of about ten riders had stopped. They saw lightning and were waiting for it to pass, though Marcus and I were sure the storm would not cross our path. But sweep must be last, so we waited.

About fifteen miles in, we crossed into Texas.

We're only in this state for about two days, how tough can it be? At the state line, one rider chalked:

USA / Texas.
Not pictured: "Remember the Alamo"

Sweeping in the morning was pleasant, especially now that we can ride two abreast. This is a new rule since Oklahoma City - we can ride shoulder to shoulder, not just in single file lines, allowing riders to have better company and conversation while on the road. The road was pretty empty, the landscape became more arid, and the wind and heat slowly picked up on this day of beautiful rolling hills. When we caught up to a rider, we pulled off and gave them some space. We found wild squashes and practiced our pitching abilities. Marcus and I got to the first of two lunch stops and refueled. The van and trailer drove away, and there were no riders or cars in sight for miles. The conditions were perfect to ride a naked mile. I still wore my helmet :)

We also climbed a windmill to kill time, and that was fun. We caught up to the rider again and rode with her for a while. A man named Monny stopped to give us cold water, and informed us that we were riding through the most Republican county in the United States. Interesting, but the heat and wind are getting worse and we should be on our way. We let the rider get a bit ahead, and soon realize they may have taken a wrong turn. Marcus goes in the wrong direction at a Y intersection for a mile, but saw no one. I waited back at the intersection, and had no phone service to call the rider. So sweep continued onward according to the cue sheet: seven miles of dirt road.

By now the sun is brutal, the dirt is bumpy and killing any speed I have, the crosswinds are trying to push me over, and I'm stressing out because I don't see any rider ahead of us for a long way. The rider did take the wrong turn, and now the van driver has a judgement call to make: what should sweep do? We decide to continue forward. I'm having such a miserable time on this road, because traveling at 8mph for a seven mile stretch just takes so long. The winds were so strong I could hardly hear cars back, or my phone ringing in my back pocket. Meanwhile, Marcus cycles competitively and has done Bike & Build in the past, so he's getting ahead and stopping to wait for me every now and then. When I met up with him at one point, all I had to say was, "I don't know what's more numb: my feet or my butt!" Meeting up in the last couple miles, all I could say between breaths was, "This road is really difficult for me." Suddenly the fun adventures for sweep were over. (It's worth mentioning here that if it wasn't for these dirt/gravel roads, the route to Spearman would be 130 miles long.)

We finally get to the second lunch stop (around mile 63) at 3pm. Riders are expected to get to the host site every day by 4pm, or riders will be picked up by the van - this meant we had an hour to bike 35 miles. Yeah right. But Marcus is E.F.I - that means he is determined to bike Every F-ing Inch of this trip, and was not going to get vanned. We ate, reapplied sunblock, stretched, refilled our Camelbaks and Gatorade bottles, and hit the road. Not quite - I receive a text from a rider with only the words "Med kit plz." This could be really, really bad. I handed Marcus the med kit, tell him to sprint, and that I'll meet up with him down the road. I simply can't sprint like he can. I meet up with them at the cue sheet's next turn. The rider had a minor fall and only needed band aids - crisis averted, but a 95 miler is not a good time for sprinting.

This turn was onto our next difficult road - I thought seven miles of dirt was miserable, but this was eight miles of gravel. The rider we were with felt comfortable avoiding this road entirely, and turned around at 3:45 to wait for the van at the lunch stop. They said, "This road is too dangerous, I can't do it and you shouldn't either." Well, we weren't going to walk the eight miles, so Marcus and I continued onward. The next rider ahead of us was probably very far, which is even more reason to hurry. The crosswinds were at least 15 mph. The temperature was well over 100, probably 105. I had a runny nose, and was running out of spots on my sleeves, gloves, and bandana to wipe my nose.The sun was brutal, the crosswind was relentless, and by now I had been on my bike for ten hours and was simply tired. However, as sweep we could see all the other rider's tire marks, and falls too. One rider fell eight times on this stretch. Marcus kept waiting for me at the tops of hills, while I carefully and slowly moved through gravel as fast as I could at just 7mph. I was halfway up one hill when I fell for the first time since Day 1 of riding. I screamed for Marcus but he couldn't hear me in the strong winds. I walked my bike up the rest of the gravel hill, the wind blowing the blood from one knee and splattering it onto the other. (Currently, I'm not sure if my knee has pus or gravel in it.) I cleaned up and we kept moving while on the brink of tears. E.F.I. - we weren't about to call it quits. Marcus reminded me that "There are no bad days on Bike & Build. Just challenging days, and those make the best memories." We finished that road and still had a ways to go.

Around 5pm we had run out of water. We refilled with a spigot from someone's yard who didn't answer their door. It was the first house we had seen in a long, long time. I found a tire in a ditch that made for a great toilet. The paved road was nice after all that gravel, but I couldn't go much faster than 15mph given the wind and the fact I was on hour eleven of sitting on my seat. Marcus tried to break the crosswind for me by riding two abreast, but neither of us felt like talking much. We dodged a four foot long live snake on that road, and then caught up with two riders who had had four flats that day.

The van eventually drove past us and pulled over. The trip leader said, "It's 6:07 now, so I'm gonna have you guys load your stuff into the van." Marcus negotiated, and said that after all the sweeps have been through that day, it would be defeating and demoralizing to give up at this point. The trip leader understood, and told us to ride the seven last miles in half an hour. Perfect, because I can't possibly go faster than 15mph anyway.

We get to the host site in Spearman, Texas just in time for dinner. Sweeps for the day get to be first in line for dinner, and showers too. I had the "100 yard stare" on my face, and couldn't really talk much or look anyone in the eye. The time was 6:45 pm - almost exactly twelve hours of riding out in the sun with no shade or break in wind. My teammates gave me hugs because although they too rode on the same terrain with the same conditions, they did not have the sweep responsibilities on top of that. Marcus and I hugged because we made it, every f-ing inch.