Friday, July 16, 2004 | 9:17 a.m.
Less than a month after bowing out of the greatest bicycling challenge in America, Henderson fireman Scott Dakus is back on his bike, keeping tuned and ready for the next challenge.
Dakus, the only local entry in the Race Across America, was all-systems-go last month as he pedaled across the Southwest deserts, into Arizona's Rim Country and toward the Continental Divide.
It was up on the Colorado Plateau that a minor oversight turned into a race-ending problem for Dakus. He put a gel pad on his bike seat to make his run more comfortable, but forgot to lower the seat to compensate for the pad. 80 miles later as he switched bikes, he first noticed the pain in his right knee. It continued to get worse, and on Day 3, Dakus started taking painkillers to try to relieve the pressure.
"Once we got to New Mexico, it started hurting quite a bit again. Then my Achilles' tendon went on my left foot, because that's where I was doing all the work," Dakus said. "The last 20 miles was a nightmare. Every ripple in the road felt like an electric shock going up my neck. It was basically an overuse injury, and it's hard to fix that by sleeping three hours and riding 20 more."
At just a little more than 700 miles into the race, across the New Mexico border and nearing the Continental Divide, Dakus rested and evaluated his options.
"It was kind of turning from a good effort into a science experiment at that point. I knew it would heal. I wasn't going to wreck it, but I knew it was just going to get worse if I kept cycling," he said. "We went back to Springerville and spent that day and the next night there, and then we headed home."
After a short time to heal and a weeklong trip to Michigan, Dakus now is getting ready for October's Furnace Creek 508, and thinking about his chances for future editions of the Race Across America.
Next year, he'll be running the crew for Kevin Walsh, a return favor for Walsh doing the same this year. Still, Dakus could run in 2006, or might partner with Walsh next year for a two-man relay race.
Either way, Dakus' 700 miles taught him several valuable lessons, aside from making sure to always double-check his seat height.
"I need to do some different kinds of training, a little less endurance training, and more strength and speed training," he said. "The 700-miler didn't make me tired. My (left) knee didn't hurt, my butt didn't hurt, everything was fine except the knee and the Achilles."
But there's more to Dakus' desire to try again than the fact that he was doing just fine almost a quarter of the way through.
"Holy cow, it was incredible, it really was," he said. "It was beautiful through Arizona. There are nice places through Arizona. It's not the Arizona I'm used to seeing at all. The roads were great, the vehicles were decked out quite a bit, and the signage they provided was very professional. All the motorists on the road knew what you were doing. I got a lot of encouragement, lots of honks and waves, and one of the local fire departments along the way came out and met us. It was kind of neat."
Bowing out, though, was frustrating on several accounts. Shortly before he had to drop out, Dakus came across participant Russ Goodwin, sitting on the side of the road, alone with his crew vehicles but no crew in sight.
Goodwin's crew was inside the team motor home, refusing to work after an overnight fight when the driver of the team's van hit Goodwin and knocked him off his bike.
"Had I known at that point I wasn't going to finish the day, I probably would have given him my crew," he said. "I felt really bad for the guy. Everyone there wants to finish it."
He also felt bad for his own crew, friends and family who volunteered to be a part of Dakus' monster ride.
"At the end of the second day, I thought this knee is terminal, and these guys are busting their asses for me. That third day was great, had a little bit of tailwind, a great time, leaving guys hours behind me. I was flying along, going through rain and hills and sailing along and having a good time, and in a span of about a half an hour, all the wheels fell off. It's kind of weird going from knowing you're not going to finish to knowing you are to realizing that you're done."
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