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Sustaining Sanity in Iraq: The Grand Conclusion

By Major Jason A. Bryan, 101st Sustainment Brigade
Published: Jul. 3, 2006

Cycling politics and controversy aside, I’m stoked about the Tour deFrance. I sure hope OLN provides coverage to the American ForcesNetwork (AFN) so I can enjoy a few stages on television. We got everyvolley of the French Open and PLENTY of World Cup coverage; hopefully they’lldo the same for the TdF.The best part of all is the fact that the completion of “The Tour” willmark yet another milestone in the completion of “my tour.” When thepeloton crosses the finish line in Paris, I’ll be that much closer to achievingmy ultimate goal… going home.


Our softball team is now gimp with pulled hamstrings and quads andgroins. We called off a game this week due to injuries and I tookadvantage of the time to get in a few extra miles, which I desperatelyneeded to reach the June goal.I firmly believe that cycling workouts reduce baseball injuries.I have never been known for my “wheels,” but I’m certain my hours on thebike helped prevent me from hobbling around the bases like my other “thirty-something”teammates. Since all baseball players hate to run (at least everybaseball player I’ve ever known), cycling could be a fantastic way to preparefor the upcoming season. Who knows how many home runs Ken Griffey,Jr. would have if he put in 1,000 miles every February.
The weather reports consistently reflect a 15 knot wind… always fromthe same direction.The raw sewage plant just off the road is nothing new. I see itevery day on my ride, occasionally noting how it looks like a park fountainwhen the pumps are on. How pleasant.As I began today’s ride in the afternoon heat, I caught a foul whiffas I approached the sewage facility. I became uneasy as the scentgrew stronger, reaching for my shirt to pull it over my face.I tried to hold my breath when the smell hit the hardest, but it overwhelmedme like a wave off the North Shore. It was suffocating-- a stenchstrong enough to make Dante take a knee at the Seventh Circle of Hell.I choked and gagged and pushed through, knowing that speed was the onlyway to escape. I finally reached clean air after about a kilometer.Gasping, nauseous.I’ve cursed the wind for months now. Now, I beg for the returnof my beloved headwind, even if it does add minutes to my “time trials.”Bob Dylan was right; you really don’t need a weatherman to know whichway the wind blows.

More critters.The critters are out in full force during the cool hours. I’veseen a couple snakes during my rides this week. The first one wasa yellowish brown desert viper who quickly slid off the road. Theother didn’t look poisonous to me. It was a very docile, lying besidethe road. I turned around to check it out. After watchingit for a moment, I continued my ride.There are also little lizards everywhere. They’re harmless, butthey’re everywhere. They climb the walls of my office and bob theirheads in approval at me when I ride by them on the road… my trefosi.One unusual creature I often see on my rides is the hedgehog.They look like little Pomeranian puppies with porcupine quills. Ialmost hit one the other night as it waddled across the road in the dark,my headlights not bright enough to pick it up in time. I actuallysquealed as I barely dodged it, and then laughed in relief that no onewas around to witness my machismo.Reports of scorpions roaming around the housing area at night are onthe rise. These aren’t your average run-of-the-mill scorpions, theyare the real deal. One unit caught a scorpion and did someresearch to find out more about it, sending pictures to an expert on-line.Here’s a description of the scorpion from the website:“The Fat-tailed Scorpion is one of the most venomous Scorpionsin the world, and for this reason it is only recommended for experiencedhobbyists. Their venom is reported to be able kill a human within sevenhours.”Reminding them they aren’t “experienced hobbyists,” I recommended notkeeping the pet.

I started my morning ride with the usual cold water bottle and a breakfastbar. I recognized the unusual headwind at the start of my ride,but didn’t pay it much attention.Within the third kilometer, I recognized sewer air blowing in my direction,so I decided to bypass the plant and cut out that portion of the perimeter…I didn’t have the stomach to deal with it. About 100 meters intomy detour, I hit the foul odor with a mouth full of breakfast and immediatelyspit it out. I continued to gag and tossed the remaining third intothe underbrush, quickly losing interest in any type of distance goal.
I’ve always heard that developing a predictable routine is importantfor dealing emotionally with a year of separation from your life back homeand it became totally evident over the last month. Routine is certainlythe secret to riding 1,000 miles in a month with a demanding work schedule.I rode every morning and every night, squeezing multiple laps in whenthe schedule allowed; immersing myself in that routine made this the quickestmonth of the year.I didn’t make it to the chow hall for one evening meal this month.It’s impossible to leave the office before 7 pm; I had to get on the roadfor the miles. Usually, I’d get a bowl of tuna fish or turkey saladduring lunch and take it back to the office. Other nights, I’d relyon care packages sent from home.
I flatted 5.5 kilometers from the end of my second lap and walked 2miles before catching a ride. … So much for my “one story I don'thave is a trek across the camp from a flat,” comment.
On the last day of June, after approximately 60 hours in the saddle…about 90 laps around the camp… I finished.1,635 kilometers for the month of June. 1,015 miles.The last lap was oddly emotional for me. Achieving a seeminglyunreachable goal was important, but recognizing the time expended focusingon the goal was far greater for me.As I approached the final kilometer, I imagined myself passing underthe 1 km kite and suddenly became LeMond, Indurain, Ullrich, Pantani, Armstrong…on the Champs-Elysee, cruising toward the top of the podium. Thetime didn’t matter, mere pageantry.But there was no drama at the finish… No zipping up the jerseyfor the sponsors, no imaginary arrow shot from an imaginary bow, no photosof the kids displayed proudly for the crowd. I rolled across thefinish line just as I started… alone… and more anxious than ever to seemy family.