Sunday, March 6, 2011

TdA Stage 41. Losing My Religion.

87km. Lava Rock Camp to Marsabit.

Word has it that this is the most difficult stage of our entire ride. I certainly hope so. 'Cause, let me tell you, this road is not for beginners.

The rocks and sand and corrugation were relentless. I had Gerry McCuaig in one ear telling me to 'Just keep moving' and Pat Doyle in my other ear telling me to 'Giver'. So, I just put my head down and kept turning the pedals over. Before I knew it, I had gone 20 metres.


I only need to do that 4000 more times.

Patience, young Padawan. Patience.

My 8 hour performance in patience earned me the fifth fastest time for the day and a faster average speed than the trucks that were carrying our stuff. As this was the last of seven consecutive days of hard riding, the road took a particularly hard toll on people, especially those who were sick.

Young-adam was painfully ill this morning, but set off anyhow in a brave attempt to retain his EFI. After a long, sufferous day of crawling from thorn bush to thorn bush, he was finally scooped up by one of the trucks. EFI dreams shattered. Exhausted and devastated. But alive.

One of the other riders likened losing EFI to losing your virginity. I'm not really sure what she meant by that. Was it a huge relief? Was it enlightening? Or was it just really disappointing? I will have to ask her, as I do not envision finding out for myself.

Speaking of which, we are staying at a convent tonight. Something that I had not envisioned ever doing. It feels a bit strange to be in a house of faith (when I have none). But it is also strangely familiar; kind of like summer camp. Friends everywhere. Shared toilets. Shoddy mattresses. Terrible food. And, over my bed hangs my own, personal glow-in-the-dark Jesus.

Ok, maybe that part is a little less familiar.


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