Tummy Tumblings

"Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without." ~Confucius

My personal bid for perfection, no days in the van and off the bike, recently came to an end. After 2,478 miles, a stomach virus knocked me out of commission. Here is the (tad graphic) story...

When I last wrote, I had happily arrived in Vernal, UT. The next morning, despite a tad of overeating of brinner (Ruben made amazing pancakes), I took off for 60 miles into Duschene, UT. I felt fantastic in the morning, able to squeeze in a hip hop dancing session as a warmup. Riding with Bryant for the first 42 miles, sluggishness set in, but I just assumed it was a post century dip. Arriving at lunch, disaster struck. As my muscles relaxed, my abdomen suddenly seared with pain. Unaware of the cause, I lay down hoping it would pass. Thirty minutes later, I found no such relief. With the rest of the group leaving, I needed to continue. I had no intentions of packing it in, so I loaded up my water bottles to tough out the final 18 miles. It was a battle I will not soon forget. No matter how much I drank, my mouth went paper dry. I twice regurgitated prior meals off the side of my vehicle, rolling along at a snail's crawl. If not for kind Abby, who chatted with and even sang to me in this reduced state, I wouldn't have rolled into town. All the while, I was befuddled to my illness, thinking I must be dehydrated in the arid Utah weather. When we finally made it in, I drank a Gatorade and some water and curled up on my Thermarest. Again having stopped physical activity, my body reminded me of its ailment. After a half of hour, my intellect trumped my pride and I called over a leader, asking for help. Moments later, I orally ejected the entirety of my stomach contents. On a post puke adrenaline high, I bounced around, convinced I was back in action. The fellow riders, wise to this illness that has affected many in our group, served as the voice of reason, advising me to wait and see. A rough night later, I woke and was desperate to ride, dehydrated and weakened as I was. Jake realized I was in no condition for a grueling 94 mile ride into Provo and stood up to my stubborn foolishness, directing me towards the van. I thank him dearly for his fortitude. The day in the van consisted of sleeping, burping, and general discomfort. As another rider put it, "you were in perpetual fetal position." Sipping on Ginger Ale and gnawing on Wheat Thins, I regained some of my strength, managing to stroll some of Provo and have a engaging chat with some of the gang at a Chinese Buffet (don't worry, I didn't partake).

The following morning, we had a Habitat work day in Provo. We did a good bit of rehabilitation on the home, mixing some demolition and construction on the same site. Feeling better, I dove into the provided lunch and dinner of salads, sandwiches and a cookie or two. Sadly, my gut microflora weren't too keen on my ravenous return to eating. I awoke this morning completely dehydrated, again stabbed with stomach pain. Desperate to ride, I gulped as much water as I could. Minutes later, bouts of diarrhea foiled any hydration attempts. Curled on the bathroom floor in my spandex, I nearly cried. I committed to this ride to help others, so many people gave to my efforts, all you have to do is ride your flippin' bike! Despite my pleas to my body to hold water, I found myself in the van again. Although I gulped enough Gatorade in the morning to hop back on the bike midway and eek out the last 17 miles to Salt Lake City, I still feel ill.

Reflecting on this mess, I recall the words of my parents and friends: "You're sick, let yourself heal...That is why we have a van...What's shattered? Your pride?...This doesn't take away anything from what you're doing." I am admittedly disappointed, but appropriately and fortunately humbled. Silly as it is, I like to think of myself as a superhero, able to juggle school, family, community service, friends, and fitness without ever dropping the ball. Me get sick? Please. Yet having finished Better, a book admitting imperfection in medicine, I realize that I must recognize my limits. Strive for excellence, yes. Crumple when I've failed, inexusable. The words of Confucius have been of great comfort at this time...

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." ~Confucius

I will continue to heal and ready myself for tomorrow's ride for Brigham City. Like today's shortened ride, maybe I won't feel fantastic or cruise with the fast riders, but I will persevere. I will continue to give my best for the affordable housing cause, even if my best isn't perfect.

Other thoughts from the past few days...

I finished Brave New World, which was a fascinating read. A future where comfort and happiness are protected at the cost of creativity and free thought...implausible or destined? Applying the themes to my life, I know I must embrace the fact that I can suffer and think critically. It is okay, no wonderful, that I doubt, dwell, deliberate, and drive myself silly over certain things and thoughts. Good read, a definite recommend.

Utah city planning rocks. The streets are all on a grid, even in the smallest towns, with the number names corresponding to the distance and direction from the city center. 100 W for .1 miles west, 500 N for .5 miles north, etc. Looks like those Mormons were forward thinkers. Speaking of which, their BYU arrangement can't be beat. Mormons pay about $2,000 a year in tuition regardless of their home state. No wonder they have 85% of the student body of 30,000!

I hesitate to announce ride dedications until I know I can complete a ride, so there may be some retroactive thank yous or doubling up. Hopefully not though!

Pictures, which haven't taken great precedence in this state, will be posted when possible. Till then, read on.