Zie dat er ondertussen een 2e Nederlander is toegevoegd. Maar zoals Apple al zegt, deze lijst wordt nog wel tig keer aangepast.
Ik ken ze beide niet, komen niet uit de kleine 'endurance wereld' in Nederland.
Ondertussen ben ik uit mijn zwarte gat aan 't komen. Mijn doel is gesteld..... heb weer iets om naar toe te werken . Het duurt nog ff, maar dan heb ik in ieder geval tijd om mijn Spaans bij te spijkeren
Het verhaal van Erin kan ik hier nog niet terug vinden. Zo kan het dus ook aflopen. Ook een heel jaar hard getraind en gewerkt om tot de finish te komen, maar dan gaat 't al heel snel mis.....
Let me tell you a fun little story... I know it’s long but it will probably be worth it. *disclaimer, these are all true events, believe it or not*
It’s called, Erin Vs. the World (previously Erin Vs. the Derby)
It all started in October 2018 when I got a call from Dylan Delahunt, my The Adventurists interviewer. He asked if I had time to chat and of course I said “yes, I’m free” but in reality, I was running all over Petaluma trying to find super glue to glue one of our polo pony’s eyelids back to her face after she ripped it off (this is true, and the horse healed perfectly (this should have been my first warning sign))
So fast forward, I got accept into the derby, super exciting I went on to spend thousands of dollars testing and buying gear, rediscovered my hatred for running, got dumped by a few horses and found out that my knee caps are basically made of glass and will cause blinding pain riding anywhere farther than 10 miles. But who needs knee caps anyways. I’m working my mf ass off, literally as many jobs as I can pick up to pay for this thing. I’m talking like 80 hours a week, completely stressed out, probably running on like 3 hours of sleep and hitting the gym every damn day.
The time finally comes, it’s the day before I leave, I’m feeling good and prepared, I pack my oliebol and grab my passport. JK, lol, my passport is nowhere to be found. Literally gone into thin air and I promise you, I never lose anything. I have a complete melt down / panic attack, tear my entire house apart, cry, freak out more, call my mom, yell at her for absolutely no reason, she talks some sense into me and I pull myself together, speed into San Francisco in morning rush hour traffic to get the US embassy. I made an appointment but, lol, it’s the government. So I wait in line for hours, get to the window and they are like “we can’t guarantee you’ll get it today ” *bitch I NEED this, I leave for the biggest most exciting adventure of my life TOMORROW* “oh and you have to wait here all mfing day”. So I bring my ferocious little temper outside to get some fresh air and I call my mom again. Surprise; my cat died. Literally within the 3 hours I was off the phone with her. This is not even a joke. Just pile it right on
4:55pm (a hard *5* minutes before the embassy closes) they call my name, I get my passport and sit in rush hour traffic once again. Cool, smooth sailing... Ha ha the demons works harder than I do believe it or not.
Things actually start going pretty well, a beautiful 2 days at start camp, lots of fun, etc. aside from NARROWLY missing getting full on double barreled by my test ride horse and walking away with just a bruised-up thigh. Close one, world... *finger guns*
The long-awaited start day arrives and, torrential downpour... but no problem, I made it this far. The gun fires and were off, full speed in the pouring rain. Benjamin Materna looks at me and goes “okay we made it past the start line!” And I reply, “yea now just to make it to HS1...” *thumbs up*. Then, complete black out... I’m on the ground and all I can focus on is my mouth full of blood.
I don’t remember a single thing that happened tbh.
The next thing I know Ben is next to me, I’m trying to do a quick body check to make sure I have all my limbs still; I still have no idea what happened. Still not able to see a single thing, I asked Ben if my teeth were still there, he said yes, I asked if my nose was broken... he goes “mmmmm probably (I imagine him making this face)” I found out later, Ben was a freaking super hero and guarded me from the pack of horses who were coming up full speed behind me while I was struggling to get up off the ground, black out with a face full of blood. Thanks buddy
Turns out my horse went down at top speeds, meaning I hit the ground, head first at ~20mph, then my horse flipped sideways and body slammed me on the way down.
I, obviously insane, was convinced I was going to keep going and while still on the ground, attempted to get up and tell someone to get my horse which apparently came out as just a jumble of inaudible letters.
The medics arrived pretty quickly and, brought me back to camp, taped me up and sent me on the road... 8 hours on the road, in fact... on bumpy-ass dirt roads, bleeding all over the place, hooked up to an IV with people giving me shots and pills and speaking in Mongolian tongues all around me.
I get to the hospital and they wheel me around at top speeds, CT scans and full body X Rays. I just smile slyly and nod when the dr tells me there’s a very good chance I won’t be going back out... he clearly has no idea how relentless I am.
Results come back and I somehow only managed a broken nose, bloodied face, fractured rib and probably a slight concussion but I have to stay under 36-hour observation due to full-speed-face-impact.
The Mongolian hospitals, while very nice, are incredibly boring and it’s impossible to turn the TVs to English. So I sat there for 3 days cooking up a fool-proof way to convince the doctor to let me go back out.
I finally get cleared to leave the hospital and they tell me I have to get a note from the doctor to let me go back. He was not having it, but I prepared for this ☝️. I gave him the speech that I took three days perfecting and somehow convinced him to sign the letter. I packed up my oliebol and the very ineffective extra strength Tylenol they gave me and off I went.
I get back out and quickly realize sleeping on the ground, not to mention riding half-feral horses, with, what I later found out we’re 3 broken ribs and a smashed in face, is not the most comfortable... I woke up the first morning on the steppe and my face was so swollen I could barely get my contacts in. But I do and saddle tf up like a real cowboy.
In case you were ever wondering, it is, indeed, very painful to breathe with broken ribs while balancing on top of a galloping horse and don’t even think of sneezing, coughing, laughing or doing anything with your upper body really... but I managed to stay on the right side of every horse I rode thereafter.
I made it whopping 5 horse stations (~90 miles) before I thought I was literally going to die and was once again, black out from pain. The blood wagon scooped me up and brought me to the next HS.
And so I continued like that, for 4 days, doubled over in pain and barley hanging onto these feral beasts. Day 3 back in the field, I discovered that I could sleep for a PR of 2 hours per night by sleeping sitting upright so I started bringing my saddle into the gers and propping it up against the wall to lean on. V comfortable.
If a broken nose, 3 broken ribs, a minor concussion, some shot nerves, the entire left side of my body a giant bruise, useless lungs, 0 sleep and glass knee caps weren’t bad enough, I got sooo sick I literally collapsed in the field one night as I was walking to the “bathroom” aka hole in the ground. And THAT was when I realized the Derby was not in the cards for me.
Zooooo he , Erin is echt een doorzetter en vechter. De Derby ( uit)rijden zit toch echt wel diep . Heel veel respect voor al de Derby rijders. Alhoewel ik soms wel twijfel of het wel slim is om door te gaan, als je hoort wat voor n smakkerds sommige hebben gemaakt , of flinke uitdroging. Maar ik kan me er wel iets bij voorstellen dat je echt tot het gaatje gaat zowel lichamelijk als geestelijk.
De uitdaging kan ik waarderen, het fenomeen type 2 fun ook, doorzetten om een doel te behalen, ja, allemaal. Maar als ik dit lees, dan kom ik ook niet verder dan 'van lotje getikt'. Ik kan hier eerlijk gezegd ook geen bewondering voor opbrengen.
Awareness sucks, but so does getting CPR F. Kooij, TacT2019