The Art of the Potato

In preparation for RAGBRAI, I decided I’d forego my usual ramping up procedure and start training early. Yes, the mind reels. This meant that I started looking up any intriguing sounding bike ride in Oregon that I could find, which included the aforementioned The Art of Surviving the Potato century ride, down in Tule Lake, CA. I was debating signing up, given the long drive down there, when I came across this gem in an article:

“Every rider gets a sack of newly harvested local potatoes!”

I might have signed up so fast such as to set a new land-speed record. And one lovely Airbnb reservation later, I was all set.

* * * * *

I will now use a technique known in literary circles as “foreshadowing” to mention the injury-but-not-an-injury that I’ve been dealing with for lo, the past year or so. It started in May (!) of 2018, when suddenly…..I couldn’t walk. I mean I COULD, but not without serious pain radiating up and down my right leg. Since it was towards the front of the leg, I figured it couldn’t be a sciatic issue, but Dr. Google was of little help. It was so bad that I tried to not leave the house – because it was too painful to walk – and when I did have to, say, go to the post office to drop off packages, it was an ordeal. Assuming it would go away, I put off going to the doctor’s office, until I decided enough was enough.

Scene: the office of Betsy Devos, aka my Nurse Practitioner that I was shunted to after the PA I was seeing left that practice. I assume Betsy was a doctor and only realized much later that she was an NP, and that I’ve never actually seen a doctor at this office. Why Betsy? She’s the spitting image of Devos, even some similar mannerisms. It’s eerie.

Me: So I’ve had this right leg pain since May, and it’s better than it was at first but still there.

Betsy: Let’s move your leg around randomly. Can you stand? Raise your knee? Move your leg to the side?

Me: Uhh, yes.

Betsy: I’m sure it’s nothing, just a joint thing.

Me: But it’s been going on for a while.

Betsy: Does it hurt all the time?

Me: Well no but…

Betsy: Then it can’t be serious. If it were serious it would hurt constantly.

Me: But…..

Betsy: It’ll go away, I’m positive.

Of course it didn’t go away, but it was tolerable-ish, until it wasn’t.  Before the Potato ride, I contact Julie:

Me: When I last saw you I had shooting pain up and down the front of my right leg, and now it’s not just leg pain but also hip and back. I’m hobbling along hunched over, can’t lift or carry things, etc.  Isn’t there a scan you can order that would indicate what’s going on?

Betsy: It’s your hip or your back but as it comes and goes and you are a very active person, I am not worried. I’d recommend going to chiropractic.

Okay then. I do the Potato Art bike ride and happily collect my hard-won sack of potatoes, but when I’m not actually on the bike, I can barely walk. This is the oddity – I can ride my bike just fine, but once I’m off it, I’m worse off than before. Much as I'd like to explore the local towns, the most I manage to do is find a musty antique store and buy a book of old recipes that includes such gems as "Supreme Clam Loaf" and "Festive Potato Cake."

This continues through the other bike rides I’ve signed up for: the Gran Fondo, the Joyride, etc. – and then we’re at RAGBRAI.  Whereupon Michelle, Mike and I are driving to Iowa to start the week-long bike ride……..and Mike looks into his rearview mirror.

Mike: Tasha. Your bike. Where’s your bike?

Me: Whattheeverlovingfuckareyoutalkingabout???????

My bike has fallen off the car. My. Bike. Has. Fallen. Off. The. Car.

And then all hell REALLY breaks loose.