I’ve not had a good run of summer racing – albeit, I haven’t done much racing other than selecting epic distances and mashing my way through the conditions with the simple intention of finishing strong. I’m definitely missing something in my groove and now faced with mid-July doldrums, I believe I will call it call quits in chasing the epic dragon that has eluded me this year. I’m looking forward to the 40-60 minutes of pain on grassy park courses – and even then, I believe I will be more enthused to just being able to hang out with all of the fine people in Chicago and beyond.

I had a friend. A great friend, and one that I sincerely attempt to recollect in every small thing that I do and any instance I feel that I may have failed at something. He and I shared three years together in high school, in lunchtime solace where I’d walk with him to the lunchroom get our lunches, and then sit in a classroom quietly unbothered by the noon hour melee of the student body. We’d share our then teenage lives and give each other inspiration for the years ahead of us – this would prove to be an incredible friendship. Peter Michael Lazar, was his name, and he quietly passed away in October of 1999 from Muscular Dystrophy. He would roll the hallways in high school in his electric powered wheelchair as I walked besides him, sometimes even hitching a ride on his chair in good whim. I ran track, cross-country, and swam in High School, and he’d remind me how awesome it is to be active and to never forget that I’m blessed to be able to use my limbs. This was a profound thought and sentiment from a dear friend, and one that I cherish within the activities that I do.

I’ve found myself lately in that mentally tough position where I’m disheartened by putting out great efforts to come out with less than great results due to issues that I haven’t experienced before. I gave it a go at the Lumberjack 100 and backed out due to some stomach issues, and just yesterday, at the Insane Terrain Challenge in Wisconsin, a 121 mile endeavor conquering 12,400 feet of climbing was again hampered, ending at mile 95 in a SAG (support and gear vehicle) wagon back to the finish line. The cause was the same, stomach distress that gave me a very tough and embarassing time trying to keep things controlled and moving forward towards to the goal line. Something I’m doing in combination with the heat distress, or with my nutrition is crying foul and forcing me to re-think how I’m approaching endurance racing. It’s never really been an issue until this summer, and perhaps – it is a lesson to take seriously and rejoin the calm. The funny part is that last week in the overcome joy I had being able to ride Palos, I had taken a good dive on the trails that sprained my ankle. I spent this previous week icing and wrapping my ankle – and thankfully, the ankle wasn’t an issue at all during the ride. Whew.

Through the rough experience however – I had a great experience climbing the hills of Blue Mounds and ridiculous good tempos when I was able to do so – and even more so happy to have found the good grace of the gentlemen who I’ll call ‘Farmer John’ from Country Road B. It was mile 88 and a kind friend had been riding alongside me keeping my motivation going to keep the pedals turning. The issue wasn’t necessarily the strength, or the lungs, but any exertion that caused some serious stomach distress. I was concerned I was going to have to ditch into the cornfields and re-validate some ancestral leanings and learn the joys of corn husks. Instead, I opted to find a decent looking farmhouse and ask desperately for the use of a commode, be it an in or out-house, I needed relief, stat. My friend Jeffery Thomas, and I, scoped out a nice white picket fenced farmhouse, beautiful in its setting and surrounded by the fields of luscious green bounty. We rolled up to the house, and were greeted by several large dogs, all of good breeding but definitely on the defense of this fine home. Had the dogs made an attempt to come after me – I’d surely would’ve been back at Option Z of which was my last resort. There, within a minute, ‘Farmer John’ came out in his trucker cap and rubber boots (yes, it was 85 degrees outside and he was wearing rubber boots) and greeted us.
Apparently I was too stunned to talk as my friend proceeded to introduce us and ask him if his sick cycling friend could use his commode. ‘Farmer John’ was very happy to oblige and pointed the way to me.

It was a glorious commode.

Air conditioned, pristine, and full of country love that I almost didn’t want to leave for the day.

I finished my business and I thanked ‘Farmer John’ profusely for helping me out. I continued the trek on to the next rest stop at mile 95. There, unfortunately, things weren’t getting better and after the self evaluation, I decided to get me back home in one piece and without further incident. I was bummed, saddened, and debilitated. However, the SAG wagon had two other Chicagoans in the car, a couple. The girlfriend was attempting to do the shorter distance trek of the Insane Terrain Challenge – the 75 mile route. She was definitely done for the day as I observed her telling body language. Her boyfriend furthered that thought when he said she had only done about 20 miles not too long prior to this event. I was unsure how to take the dynamic of that relationship and had visions of my wife divorcing me had I conned her into doing something of this nature. It made me smile – but so did my thoughts back to Peter Michael Lazar. Despite not completing the whole challenge – I looked down at my legs and my arms and said a silent “thank you” to the universe, I was grateful to have been able to straddle a bike at all.

Thank you Peter.