After speaking with my therapist and switching over to a gluten free diet, and doing a bit of 'off the grid" planning, I am ready to share what happened, so here goes.
That day was like any other day, I woke up, went to the health food store and picked up a double shot of wheatgrass, pounded it down In the parking lot and puked into an empty mcdonalds bag that's sitting on my floor. A short drive brings me to the bike shop where load up on gu and post ride recovery drink that I mix with pedialyte and Xanax. Off to the races! I arrive in the lot but don't acknowledge anyone, mostly because I've been spending the last 72 hours preparing for my next strava segment and can't be sidetracked. I'm strictly business at this moment.
With the entire contents of my stomach gone I'm at my lightest weight of the week, (205lbs) and I squeeze into my Lycra singlet and head out. Just moments into the trail I become short of breath (sob) and hit the inhaler, 1st big mistake of the day. Second mistake I make is that I immediately start to drink my ride recovery shake that I've doubled the dose in Xanax and added a 5 hour energy bottle to. Don't ask why, i really don't know why.
Obviously all of the strava manipulation tricks I've done are pointless because I can barely see. At this point I'm getting passed by riders and dog walkers. I know Im not gonna KOM when I get passed by a guy heavier than me on a fat bike. Now I'm like fvck! I told the guys at the bike shop that I was going to place at least top 10 on this segment, but this is the least of my worries, because I begin to hallucinate.
My mind is racing and it immediately reminds me of the last time I smoked pot. Ugh! All I can think about is how annoying facebook is on the 1st day of school and why they have not offered a 'who cares' button. Then I become worried about my bike. Is it gonna freeze? I heard carbon freezes, and at that moment I felt cold, real cold, but my feet were sweating because I have my lake winter shoes on(thank god). I gotta pull it together so I hammer down some gu.
Finally, I get to the end of the trail. And up to this point everything seemed normal. Im greeted by this guy who has his bike completely wrapped in tin foil, a white guy, prob the same white guy who laughed at the black guys in the kyak, but I didn't ask. I offer him some of my recovery drink and he accepts with pleasure. This was mistake number three. He starts tripping and says "hashtag-wtf is in that drink" and I'm like why the fuck did you say hashtag, he says......hashtag, im tweeting. At this point I'm lost and don't understand this dude, he opens every sentence with #. Once again I get scared and ask what's with the tin foil, he says # alien thought control. I explain that's bullshit and he freaks out and puts a picture of me up on Instagram and writes # alien. Now I get pisssed off and demand that he stop tweeting. He does. At this point I step in dog shit, and he takes a picture of that and instagrams it. I'm like #heyassholedoyouposteverythingyousee? He then gets on his fat bike and rides away.
It's getting dark and my hands are shaking so badly I tear the grips right off the bars and land on my back. Some dog walker sees me do this and accuses me of being dangerous and almost running her over. But I'm so geeked out on recovery drink that I can't speak or walk, so I begin to crawl. Well, believe it or not strava has a glitch, I found out that if you crawl on your hands and knees, the gps signal gets crossed and automatically posts 22 mph average. YES! So I begin to crawl faster, and my average keeps,going up. Now, I'm almost running on my hands and knees and I get back to the lot. KOM, finally!!
As a result of this ride, I will never go back to that trail again. Too much creepy stuff back there.