Atlantic City is not the kind of place I can be following a trek like this one. I'm at the airport in Philadelphia readying to jump home.

It'll all come out in bits over the next while, the flow will increase some when I can take a spin on a real keyboard. Would like to get a travel board for this Blackberry.

For now I'll say this - it's over - and I'll try to answer the questions I would have.

It's our last day and I, for one, am paying for the emotional roller coaster of the last day and a half. We mismanaged the expectations of placing in this race and when it became obvious that the math wasn't going to figure there was an inevitable letdown.

And it's hard to perform from the letdown level.

Sam is out on his bike right now and he will be giving an effort based on his knowledge of himself played against how long his ride is supposed to be - in this case about 25 kms. You can go a lot harder for 25 k than you can for 50.

So he goes balls out for 25 kms. But at the end of the 25 kms there is no relief. Why? Because the relief, me, is on a bed in the back of an RV that is lost.

So now Sam must make a choice. Back right off his effort and find a good sustainable tempo that he can maintain until we find one another...

Or

Following our picking ourselves up and dusting ourselves off my ultra mentor, Kevin Wallace, urged me to find the cliff edge and stay there. TCE is the place where physical and mental output is on a precipice - err on the safe side of the edge and you aren't being all you can be. Fall off the other side, often referred to as blowing one's self up, and you pushed it too far. Finding the edge is the first step. Maintaining your purchase on it is the next one.

I'm in the RV, dressed and ready to get back out there. I think it might be raining but I'm not sure. Don't want to ask because I don't really want to know.

4 pancakes with almond butter and jam
An almond butter and jam sandwich.
2 huge burritos.
A plate of pasta.
Oatmeal with berries.
A pizza.
4 shakes.
5 Boost.
4 power cookies.
12-20 Fig Newtons.
15 bottles of water with electrolyte replacement.
One (and only one) painkiller.

That's what I've eaten today.

We're in the the thick of it now and racing is very different than survuvung. We're strategizing and riding harder than I thought possible for something this long. It takes a lot of energy which, of course, demands a source, which takes time...etc etc.

We're in fourth and are within 150 miles of 3rd. A day's racing if paces continue as they are.

Beware though - we could be making rookie mistakes.

There is no doubt that this hurts but it has to be the best pain I've ever experienced. The rewards have been huge, as relentless as the race itself.

Last night was gorgeous. From midnight on I faced a 16 mile climb that saw about 3000 feet of elevation gain.

I won't go on about the climb. I'll just say it was tough. I utilized a bunch of the visualization, breathing, and imagery techniques I'd been practicing. About 1/2 way up the climb I conjured up an image of my son, Joe.

I wasn't really prepared for what came next.

Sam climbed wolf creek pass like they were one.

We are out of the Rockies.

I have to get back to my figs and almond butter. And then I'm off on my bike. Will check back soon.

Every time I returned from the bike yesterday, and whenever we had signal, I did so to a mailbox full of messages from all you amazing people. And every time I'd be readying to get back on the bike I'd read one or four.

They weren't just messages. People shared their stories with me and I am both humbled and appreciative. It's something to share a little of your own darkness to help someone else through theirs and that so many of you did yesterday makes me happy to be a part of the community that I am.

Thank you guys. From deep down - thank you.

But we made it to it. We covered a lot of miles yesterday and made it to the cut off point with a couple hours to spare.

That's the good part.

The bad part is that that kind of push comes with a price. In this case that means sore legs on tired riders and a tired crew. I was cautious about any celebration of success - I think we should save that for Atlantic City. More immediately we have to figure out how to help our legs to recover because today we do a lot of climbing and we reach the high point of the race - Wolf's Creek Pass. This will hurt.

We'll figure it out though.

I was shaky this morning heading out. I knew I needed a balance between riding hard enough that we make the cut off but not so hard that I reversed any healing progress we made by stopping and letting me sleep after yesterday's massive feeding. I was still fighting nausea and my head was very sore.

I've decided to stay on my road bike today as the TT is tough on my stomach. On the road bike I can put my tempo at a cadence/effort that I know I can sustain. I found it this morning and it was good.

I cried for the entire second hour of my shift.

Thursday, I think. I've woken up in a small dingy hotel room somewhere in Arizona. I lay here and play it all back in my mind - what a shitty shitty shitty day yesterday was and wow can I ever feel the effects of it today. I've been an athlete most of my life but I've never experienced anything like this. Imagine the worst hangover you've ever had and multiply it by a lot. That's how I feel right now.

Our bid for RAAM is at risk and its my fault. I underhydrated and, as a result, could not eat and the riding and the heat combined has me pretty sick.

The team is eager to continue. I'm not sure about Sam - I made a rookie mistake and its cost him huge.

I'm going to go talk with him, to make the decision together about continuing.

I'm sorry.

is kicking the shit out of me. That's why I've been absent from the blog. My apologies. I will get back to you all when I'm through the worst of it.

My room is dark.  Dave is out packing his stuff and I just had a shower, shaved my legs and face and got my kit on.  

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