I remember thinking, very distinctly, “I hope they don’t come back.” I’d just been dropped on a long, straight, sunbaked stretch of New Hampshire road. The mistakes had all already been made. It was a hot day, and I’d crashed early on. I then chose to try to ride with the fast group. There was a classic bonk then, like someone had just shut the power off. I felt awful. The group hardly looked back as I disappeared behind them.
And then of course I just had to roll along in my shame and misery. It was a relief to stop trying to hold onto the back of the group. I really hoped to hell they wouldn’t come back for me, that I could just deal with the final 20 miles by myself, turning the pedals over slowly, facing the pain.
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed, silently, to myself.
After about twenty minutes, I heard something behind me, and they came rolling along at a much-diminished pace. This was both confusing and deeply, deeply disappointing. Turns out, I’d been the one with the route loaded into my Garmin. They took a wrong turn, and then another. And thus, were we reunited.
The “good news” is that two of them had bonked in the time we’d been apart, roughly 20 minutes, so no one had their foot on the front pedal anymore. Also, we were only a mile or so from a convenience store. Would it be a salvation? To be honest, I almost feared stopping, as if I might never actually escape the Route Whatever Quik Mart.
I drank a Coke and a seltzer. I ate a bag of plain potato chips and a Snickers bar. AND I WAS HEALED!
My companions were not so lucky, and in a completely unexpected turn of events, I ended up pulling them the final 10 miles to our destination, saying encouraging things, being careful not to let them fall off my wheel.
I felt pretty awful the rest of the day. 700 odd calories and a cool place to sit down are not the panacea for a full summertime bonk. I felt relieved, at any rate, to be past the worst of it.
This week’s TCI Friday wonders what the worst of it has been for you.