I ride at first light the 26 miles to Orvando where I can get
breakfast. I am feeling strong, especially on the long climbs and my
mind is positive, things are going well. I arrive in Orvando,
"Population: Humans 25, Dogs 100", and walk into small café, eager to
eat quickly and get on the trail again. With only one other customer I
wait for an eternity for my eggs and hash browns to turn up. I have been
very patient; I reach for the ketchup, shake vigorously and feel a
wetness on my face, there is red everywhere, windows, walls, ceiling,
floor and me. The last jerk to sit at this table had not screwed the cap
on. I am about to head into rogue Grizzly territory smelling like 70kg
of bear food. I am apologetic in a reluctant way, like it wasn't my
fault. I eat and leave as soon as I can. As I pack I see Scott across
the town square, as he acknowledges me one of the hundred town dogs
steals the half eaten pizza he's having for breakfast. Orvando has not
been kind to either of us.
I hit the next big hill with relish (or was it ketchup!) and it's
going well when all of a sudden I get a pain in my left knee that feels
like a blade has just gone all the way through. I wince and almost fall,
the pain stops. I am frightened. I never have knee pain. I have ridden
singlespeed almost exclusively for 3 years without so much as a niggle
and I am now presented with something unknown. I look at my leg around
my knee; it has over a couple of days physically changed appearance,
more sinewy and defined. I conclude it is maybe overuse and perhaps it
will settle down. I ride until late evening with the pain flaring up and
dissipating, I check into a motel in Helena and stretch, parts of me are
numb, hands, feet and more worryingly, other areas.
