Isaiah’s farm, headwinds, the ER, prom, and “why not Minot”

On Monday, we rose at 4:15 for our longest scheduled ride, 116 miles into Devils Lake, North Dakota. We left as the sun rose, and had put in 60 miles by 9am. John Pribik and I were sweeping, so we brought up the rear. Our first duty of the day: hanging out with Dae as he changed his tire. Then we pace-lined at 22/23 mph, the hardest riding of the day, to catch up with the group. We saw the van ahead and pulled up. Quang was down again, and it was the trip’s worst fall. He looked pretty shaken up. As John said, “I just got used to seeing him without bandages!”. He refused painkillers and got back on his bicycle.

At our second lunch, the vast North Dakota sky began to darken. We got a call from Sean ahead, saying that rain, hail and swirling winds awaited us. We chose to wait it out at the gas station, and later learned that several riders rode through the storm, lightening and all. Kathy couched under a hay bail to escape the gusts of wind that were blowing her off the road.

When the skies cleared, we emerged from our hideout to complete the ride. Wonder of wonders, we had an East wind that blew us 36 miles into Devil’s Lake at 24 mph. We arrived by 3pm, ready for our North Dakota farm experience.

Isaiah’s farm sits 26 miles North of Devil’s Lake in a tiny town called Starkweather. We had tractor rides by the golden wheat and sunflower fields and then rode horses after a tasty dinner.

In the morning, full of caramel rolls and scones, we returned by schoolbus to Devil’s Lake and set out for our “easy” day. Only 58 miles to Rugby, the geographical center of North America. Ten miles into the ride, I decided it was the hardest day we’ve had. The famous North Dakota prairie wind was blowing so hard that we couldn’t get past 11mph. After 20 miles, I felt more tired than I had at the end of 120 miles the day before. For the first time I found myself musing about ways to get out of the ride.

Four miles away from lunch, I heard Kate call out “slowing”. I saw her tire in front of mine, and I pulled on my brakes. Next, my tire was skidding along hers and then my bike was on it side, pressing on me as I slid along the pavement. I was surprised and mad for a second as I realized what was happening. I gathered myself, tears of shock sliding down my cheeks, and got out of the road. Quang, riding behind me, was down too, but he seemed okay. Nothing hurt too much, but I knew right away that there was something wrong with my finger. As soon as the shock cleared, I could begin to appreciate the funny angle of it. It went straight out at the base and curled, looking rather like a hook.

We thought it was dislocated, and I was hoping somebody could put it back in so I could keep riding. Unfortunately, we had to call the ambulance, and they determined that it needed an x-ray. So I became the first person in 2300 miles to ride in the van and not finish a ride. An unexpected and unwelcome distinction.

The Emergency Room staff were efficient and friendly: after a few minutes, I was in with the doctor. The tech brought out my x-rays and put them up. “Oo” they said, notifying me with their tone that it was broken instead of dislocated. From the room, I said “shit,” without thinking. They turned around, a little shocked.

With some lydocain, the doctor straightened out my finger and then splinted it with a hard cast that extends halfway to my elbow. The pain was minimal, and didn’t get much worse.

I made it to the high school, and then headed out to make up part of the mileage I missed. I put in 24 miles, half of it with a glorious tailwind. I was back in time for our “prom”, held outside the high school gym. Lots of fun; Isaiah was my prom date, and I wore a fabulous thrift store dress. Costumes were excellent, and some couples coordinated beautifully. Good fun was had by all, and plenty of laughter accompanied the festivities.

Now we are in Minot, North Dakota and we have a day off. Woohoo!