Encouraged by our endurance for pain in the 200K (155 miles total in
sleet and rain) and our strong finish in the 300K (top quarter of the
field), Chip and I were excited about the Boston Brevet Series 400K
event, which takes riders from Bedford to Ashfield (Western Mass.) and
back.  We tuned our bikes, studied maps, and talked about it all the
time.

In one moment of silliness, I turned to Chip and declared sternly,
"There Shall Be No Failure But Death!"  Ironically, I got the D-word
wrong.  For me, there was no failure but diarrhea.

It was shortly after midnight, almost 2 hours before my scheduled
wake-up time of 2am: resting my chin in my palms, I tried to focus on
the pale green bathroom tile in front of me as my bowels roiled and
growled and discharged their Stygian humors in wave upon fetid wave.

I didn't know what to do.  Call Chip and tell him I was abandoning
without even starting?  No.  I'd give it a shot.  Just in case, I
packed some toiler paper and a few extra ziploc bags.  It was my best
idea of the day.  I also replaced Gatorade with Coke in one of my
water bottles, hoping that carbonation and acidity would kill stomach
bugs.

Chip and I met at 2.45am in Cambridge and rode to the 4am start at
Hanscom Field in Bedford at a leisurely pace.  There weren't many
people at Hanscom: 13 total, including us, and just one woman (Melinda
Lyon, female record-holder in the 1200km Boston-Montreal-Boston, and
female winner of the most recent 1200km Paris-Brest-Paris).  Most
people had opted for the 1am start, which gives riders a longer time
limit.

The first 20 miles or so were ok, though I advised Chip not to draft
me too closely, and I felt sorry for whoever did.  Around Pepperell,
after about 25 miles, the group started to accelerate, and Chip and I
decided to let them go.  I felt queasy, and the stomach pain worsened.
In Townsend, after about 30 miles, I needed to make emergency stop #1,
at a Citgo gas station.  I try to never use restrooms without buying
something, so I bought a Coke.  Probably not enough, I fear, to
compensate the establishment for the seismic disturbance I engendered
in the restroom.

On we rode, Chip always ahead of me.  The scenery was beautiful,
especially as we entered Willard Brook State Forest, which I now rank
among the most beautiful places to ride in Massachusetts.  I tried to
hang on to Chip on the thousand-foot climb through the forest to the
hilltop town of Ashby, but there was trouble in the engine room.  I
believe that cycling---especially long distance cycling---is primarily
a test of one's digestive system, and mine just wasn't working.  Near
the top of the hill I suddenly felt Urgent Need #2: with no gas
station in sight, I swerved off the road and ran into the bushes
clutching my ziploc bags.

I decided to quit.  My stomach was feeling worse, and there was no use
in being miserable and slowing down Chip in the process.  Chip kindly
gave me Cindy's number in case I needed a ride back at any point, and
we parted ways.

I was sad---I'd cycled well all spring, and had planned to make the
400K the peak of the spring riding season---but there were more
pressing matters at hand.  I stopped in a cafe to eat a plain toasted
bagel and try to warm up, but discovered I couldn't hold any food
inside me.  And so I slowly cycled home, sometimes bent over double by
the stomach pain, sometimes feeling better and admiring the wonderful
spring colors and the puffy clouds in a perfect blue sky.

I will spare you the details of Urgent Needs #3, #4, #5, and #6,
except to say that I am grateful (for once) to Big Oil for having
established such a pervasive network of public restrooms in eastern
Massachusetts.  Looking at it another way, not even the most ardent
Greenpeace activist could have conceived a better political statement:
ride your bike ride your bike ride your bike, and poop at every gas
station you see.

I rolled into Cambridge around 11am, thinking of Chip and feeling like
a failure.  But I guess I did alright overall---a little over 100
miles in a little over 7 hours, including multiple poop stops, and
with no food other than one PowerBar and half a bagel.  It's a
testament to the efficiency of the bicycle as a form of transport.

I've since slept for several hours and feel a bit better, but I'm glad
I turned back when I did, for I continue to produce output despite
almost no input.  As I write this (9.30pm), Chip has probably recently
finished or is about to finish the ride.  I can't wait to read the
report of his adventures.