Back to my latest injury, I just got back from the gyno. I saw 2 of them today actually. The first one, Dr. Jackie Gutmann, is my endocrinologist and she completely rocks. She helped me navigate my way through the hormonal maze I was in, which really helped me control my moods and stopped all of the irregularity in my cycles. The only issue is that I have been off birth control since April-ish and since remaining celibate for months on end has never come naturally for me, there is that possibility that I could get pregnant. I don't want to have a baby. Not now, and probably not ever.
So the purpose of the appointment originally was to discuss the current options of birth contol on the market. I had been on NuvaRing for 10 years and I felt a bit out of the loop when it came to the current options out there. And because being on the ring that long had caused my body to all but stop producing testosterone, progesterone, and estrogen, I was loath to go down the synthetic hormone chemical pathway again. I mean I could literally supplement with testosterone and get a Therapeutic Use Exemption, my natural levels wer so low they were off the charts. (Maybe this would make me faster??)
Well guess what? The options are pretty much the same as they have been for 20 years.
Hormonal options: you have pill, patch, ring, implants, or the shot.
Non-hormonal options: you have the barrier methods, diaphraghm and condoms (not happening), IUDs, and there is one more option....
Dr. Gutmann looked at me and said, "would you consider permanent sterilization?"
I looked away for a minute and smiled. "Well, to be honest, I'm not completely sure that I can make that decision with certainty at this point...things might change...." my voice trailed off and I laughed.
"Well then it's out of the question," Jackie said, "because you would need to be 110% sure."
Then I showed her the cyclists's nodule, and she winced. "Wow, this is a new one for me," she said, and called in a nurse in so she could see too. Jackie did an ultrasound and said that there was indeed fluid in there, and suggested I call my gyno and get in to see her TODAY.
"And you will get back to me with your decision about birth control,"she reminded me, and then added, "the good news is you won't have to worry about it right now, since you won't be having sex for awhile."
I laughed. Yeah that is the least of my problems.
So I called my gynocologist's office and they were able to get me in today to see Kim Einhorn, MD.
She stuck me with some lidocaine, then barely waited for it to work before she slid a scalpel right into the mass. I could feel it and that was pretty awful. I tried not to move, but I knew my face was all twisted up and I started to sweat. Then she proceeded to squeeze the swollen abcess hard, in an attempt to get the stubborn thing to drain. I can't describe to you how much that hurt. So she kept this up for 15 minutes: needle, then scalpel, then squeezing. The second hole was in the tenderest corner of the female body, actually under the abcess, and because of that one I am on Darvocet right now as I write this to you, sipping a glass of red wine.
So she got 3 tablespoons out of it, and said it was most likely not infected, but she put me on Cephalex anyway since she did just cut three holes in my hoo-haa. She said I needed to do a warm compress 3x a day, and clean it with soap and water.
"So what other sports do you like besides cycling?" she asked, and then she proceeded to tell me a story of how she was a serious gymnast up until college when she realized that her ligaments just could not handle it anymore, she just kept getting hurt. She said she started running and skiing. I mumbled that I had started running, and then I asked her to stop squeezing me for 10 seconds so I could reply to her question, because my tolerance of the pain required me to zone out and concentrate on something else and in doing so it was hard for me to be in the room with her, answering her questions. She told me a story of another female cyclist she had seen with a similar condition, and how the woman resolved the problem by changing her saddle after bring off the bike for months.
"This will go away Andrea, you will not need to have surgery." Dr. Eichorn said.
"You mean even the indurated tissue will go away?" I asked, meaning the hard tough tissue that felt like a callous.
" Yes, it will heal, but you will have to be off the bike for a long time."
"What's a long time?" I asked, already fearing the answer.
" At least six months" she replied, and looked at me with the empathy that only an athlete who was forced to give up the sport that she loved could muster.
I smiled. Here we go again.
None of the medical mishaps that I have had over the past two years have required that long off a bike, not the broken collarbone, the pacemaker implantation, the LEEP procedure, Mark's slicing out my cyst (on the same spot as this one), getting run over by a truck----none required that much time off the bike. I cannot even believe this.
So I am offically no longer a cyclist. I honestly don't know how I am going to get through it. It looks like running, swimming and weight training are going to have to do it for me for now.
I do have an appointment with a urogynocologist next week for another opinion. Like maybe a scalpel could help move this along a bit. It's hard to believe that I am going to be off the bike for six months because of a saddle sore gone awry.
Please feel free to email me your personal horror stories regarding time off the bike due to saddle issues. I'm thinking it might make me feel better.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Sella Italia Trans Am
Specialized Body Geometry 130mm
San Marco Aspide
WTB Rocket V
Selle Italia SLR GelFlow
Selle Italia SLR XP
Selle Italia SLR Gel Flow LDY
Selle Italia Diva Gel Flow
Selle Italia SLR T1
Selle Italia SLC Gel Flow
Selle Italia SMP Evolution
Selle Italia Max Flite Gel Flow Team Edition
One day a few years ago I was talking to Colin about it and he suggested the Terry Liberator. I purchased the saddle, and it was the most comfortable one I had tried. After several rides with it, it did not hurt me in the front or the sides, so I went with it, on my road and my mountain bike.
Our relationship was somewhat tumultuous (that is me and the saddle, not me and Colin) I'm not sure if I was born this way, or if this is a result of my femur being deeper in my hip socket on the left side, but there is a tad more flesh on my left perineum than on my right. This has caused a lot of discomfort on longer rides and a slew of saddle sores, always on that left side. Usually my misery peaks in the spring and by the middle of the racing season it bothers me less, perhaps because I have beaten into submission I'm just not sure.
At any rate, suddenly this year the Liberator was not working anymore. It was hard to get through even short rides, whether I was wearing the new improved Voler team shorts, or my Assos shorts. It was all pretty miserable. Going into Marysville I was wondering how I was ever going to get through 9 hours on the saddle.
Marysville weekend: Saturday evening at the camp as I was showering off the grime off at the Oesterling's, as the water washed over my peach I let out an audible, "ouch." I inspected the area and was pretty much horrified at the swelling I saw, I have never seen anything like it in all my years riding bikes and beating up on my peach. Of course that did not stop me from racing the STXC the next day but it was a stage race after all, I could not get a DNF for the stage. Almost unbearable pain during the race. When this swelling got even worse in subsequent days, I called my gyno and made an appointment to have it drained. Dr. Barsoum stuck a needle in it, then cut a hole in it, in an attempt to get it to drain. But there really was very little fluid in it, it was more like hardened tissue, like a callous. So a few days later I texted Steve Collina, MD, my sports med doctor who I pretty much could not live without at this point. We used to be teammates on the now defunct Biketopia team. And yes, he is one of the docs I have on speed dial due to my various maladies.
He stuck it first with lidocaine, and then multiple times with cortisone. Over the next several days the swelling went down, enough that I stupidly decided to race the Summer Sizzler (GCC) after all, as I had been off the bike since Marysville 9 days prior. The day after GCC was the beginning of the Week From Hell, and the cyst was very angry so I saw Steve Collina and got it shot again. We realized that we were buying time and I needed to think about two or three weeks off the bike if the shots did not elicit immediate improvement. There was some improvement, but the hard capsule was still there even when the swelling subsided a bit. I did ride Belmont with Nate Thursday and commuted to work on Friday, just to try and preserve my sanity. By the end of the day Friday I could not walk without pain and riding was unbearable.
When I went to see Dr. Colina Monday the 19th, he took one look at the cyst and said, "I cannot believe you rode on this."
The nurse, who is also a cyclist, turned her head when he stuck the needles into the body of the cyst, which by this time basically had its own zip code it was so large. I tried not to jump off the table. I try not to move during these pain situations, like the time they stuck a needle in my neck in an attempt to find the nerve bundle that when stuck would make my arm go dead before they opened up my shoulder in December for surgery #5. I like the challenge of showing no pain in these situations, but this was my peach after all, so I did wince a bit.
So basically the plan was now to use ice to try and diminish the localized swelling. The cortisone would hopefully help shrink the hard capsule, but if it did not I needed to be off the bike for at least three weeks. I iced it for 3 days straight.
So Steve finally gave me the name of this little atrocity: perineal nodular induration, which is rare complication that usually only affects elite or professional male cyclists. Of course, since apparently the "W" in Walheim stands for "worse-case scenario", and my season after all had been going pretty well from my comeback after 2 years of medical problems, I was overdue for some rare malady to show up and rain on my parade.
The perineal nodular induration is sometime called the biker's nodule, or, when it occurs invariably in men, the "third testicle." Yeah, I swear, gross.
At this point I have been off the bike for two weeks, and the nodule has grown larger, not smaller. It now hurts to walk, and it is painful to sit in my chair at work. I have been going to the gym and running to preserve my sanity. It completely sucks, especially since Nate is coming up to the the Wilderness 101 and I get to go up there for the weekend without my bike to support him and whine about not being able to ride.
The nodule looks like something out of the x-files. There is no broken skin; which is the scariest part, because it looks like it's part of me, but it's not. I made an appointment with a urogynecologist-surgeon so I could get an idea of what would happen when they cut this thing out. The problem is it is so large there won't be anything left on that side to cover my bones so I have no idea how I'm ever going to ride a bike again. In the literature I have read it usually presents as 3 centimeters and this one is 7 and growing. It is likely infected, so I see a gynecologist tomorrow to see what her recommendations are. Colin thought I might want to go to the ER tonight but I think I can wait it out until Friday. This one is really scaring me.
So here is my new ride: A sweet recumbent model with a built in HRM. Yeah, it's not carbon, but at least I don't have to drag it up any hills.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
When I got home it was really uncomfortable, and it soon became so painful that I stopped back to Wahner Chriropractic on my way to work and just missed them as they went to lunch. So I headed for work, but the pain got worse and worse. It was a sharp stabbing pain in my upper back under my left shoulderblade and radiated through my chest. It was about as subtle as a really bad toothache. I could not turn my head. It hurt to breathe, and laughing or coughing or sneezing was excruciating. I went back for another adjustment the next day, but that only made it worse. I was not able to ride my bike all week because of the pain. Between that and my saddle issue.
My saddle issue? After Marysville I developed an abcess on my left perineum. It was severely swollen and angry, I had never ever in all my years of riding seen anything like that, that huge. I had already gone to the gyno to have it drained, which yielded virtually nothing, then to Steve Collina MD (a mountain biker himself and a Best of the Main Line kick-ass sports med doctor) to have it shot with cortisone. Riding a bike was almost unbearable. It did shrink after the first set of shots, but after GCC it was angry again, so on Monday afternoon he graciously fit me in. He shot it again several times, which feels great by the way, and of course after that there was going to be no riding anyway. Again, it's still Monday, mind you.
That night we had torrential thunderstorms and my basement flooded. I was actually in my basement when it happened, I turned around from grabbing some paper towels and water was pouring in from the bilco doors. By the time I gathered up enough towels they were soaking though every half an hour. This went on into the night.
Then Tuesday am I somehow lost my favorite David Yurman ring. It was in my backpack because I was all set to ride into work Monday but then I was able to get the appt with Steve. Somehow the ring was in my hand, then it disappeared. That pissed me off. Rich had given it to me years ago and I had a set of three.
Then I got a notice in the mail that my car insurance company, Erie, was not going to renew my policy in September. Because of the 2 accidents I had over the winter that were not my fault, but I could not get Erie to return my calls to hear my side of the story. Great.
So on Tuesday morning there were more thunderstorms, and calling for even more in the afternoon, so I called Chris and asked him if he could bring some stuff home for me so I could work from home so I could monitor the flooding situation. He agreed, but when he got here I could tell he was agitated. It was hot and, of course, sunny, and I was praying for rain, even though it would mean hours of work in the basement to stem the flood of water, so I could justify my working from home. I was hating my job these days, overwhelmed with all the paperwork I was doing that should have been the job of my assistant. Eventually we just had it out on my front steps, until I realized that I was not wearing sunscreen. With my typical lack of segue, I asked him to come up to the porch so we could finish telling each other off. It was there that I told him to go fuck himself, which I'm pretty sure is a fireable offense in the employee handbook I am currently working up with a lawyer. Hopefully she does not read this blog either.
I was so stressed out that I canceled the little sioree I was going to have Tuesday night in honor of Francois Parisien's visit with coach Colin. Kelley had picked up wine, but I was basically having a meltdown by Tuesday afternoon and was swamped with work, so I pulled the plug. We ended up doing it on Wednesday. Which meant again I got like 5 hours of sleep.
Then there was the whole mess with my new bike rack, which I am not even going to get into here, but needless to say I was PISSED that Colin had taken my old rack off my car because I could not take Cadence class Tuesday night. Nevermind the fact that I was in so much pain there is no way I could have taken class. But don't let reason get in the way of a woman having a really bad week who cannot self-medicate herself with cycling as per usual.
Did I mention by Wednesday my back was spasming so badly that I asked Colin to punch me, hard, in the back? Which he did, and almost knocked the wind out of me. He punched me hard enough that Francois let out a incredulous "whoa!" which sounded funny in his French accent. Obviously Colin was not deterred by the golden rule that guys should not wallop girls. It seemed to stop the spasming but the next morning I was not a happy camper. We did have a nice dinner Wednesday, the four of us, and Francois taught me the art of finding potential dates on Facebook. And I thought it was just about being "friends."
Thursday morning Gryphon peed all over the floor, I mean all over the rugs, the hardwood, everywhere. I was angry, and I pushed my poor weak dog out through the dog door in an attempt to get him to finish outside. I was an act of cruelty that I will never forgive myself for, because little did I know it then that he did it because he had an advanced stage of cancer. And that it would be the last Thursday of his life.
On my way I was on 76W right where it splits into 3 lanes funnelling traffic to South Philly, the WW bridge, or the airport. I was going about 70 and this white van pulls up behind me right on my bumper. WTF? This was not even a passing lane, it was the ONLY LANE you could be in if you were heading to the airport, and this asshole was on my bumper at 70mph. So I did what any self-respecting redhead would do, I slowed down. I made sure I slowed down so I was going the very same speed as the slow poke in the lane next to me, as he was trying to get around me. I closed the gap. Sorry asshole.
This pissed him off. So we rode like that for a about 20 seconds, and then the person in the right lane started turning off. Dickhead in white van darted into the right lane to pass me, but I veered over in front of him and cut him off. This REALLY pissed him off. The next thing I knew he was trying to play bumper cars with me and run me off the road. Holy shit, this guy was crazy. I accelerated, fast, because he was racing me to get into the tunnel, and I could tell he was going to do anything he could to do run me off the road, like knock me into the side of it at 90mph. If I got into a collision with him, he was going to win. And another accident would pretty much mean I would be eligible for car insurance that costs less than 5 grand a year about when I started collecting social security.
I floored it. That Infiniti accelerates fast. Those vans have big engines though. I don't know how fast I was going when I hit the 2-lane tunnel that dumps you from 76 onto 26th street, but I had to use both lanes, and he was right on my tail. It had to be close to 100. Then we were on 26th street and he pulled up beside me and veered into my lane to try and force me off the road. I saw a truck up ahead and knew I had to put that truck between us. My heart was beating so fast that it blocked and the pacer kicked in. I was really freaked out, but really angry myself. I managed to get in front of a large truck and Dickhead recklessly raced between cars, and I watched 2 other cars almost collide trying to get out of his way,. He made a right onto the Platt bridge and that is when I decided that I need to get Dickhead's license plate. So I raced up the Platt bridge right behind him, and managed to get this photo:
(Note how close Dickhead is to the truck in front of him. We were all going about 70mph at that point.) Then I decided that was not enough, almost being killed by this whacko, no, I needed to get a picure of Dickhead himself. It was not going to be easy because we were about to dump onto 95 now and he was weaving in and out of traffic like a madman. I was undeterred, because as I said, I was mad by then. So at 80 mph I rode up next to him on the left and held out my camera. He was a caucasian, middle aged Dickhead with graying brown hair and an creepy, evil smile. When I rode up next to him, he threw back his head in laughter and waved at me. I smiled and held up my camera. click.
If you look carefully at this picture, in the top left corner you can see the outline of half of his laughing face, the picture is fuzzy and gray, as if his demonic visage is appearing in a swirl of smoke.
So that episode upset me just a bit, my pacemaker did not stop pacing for about a half an hour after I got to work, although I was not exactly an innocent victim. I did post his plate on platewire, after realizing that it was pointless to call the police because at least in PA they don't really do anything about road rage if no one dies.
Nate came, and suddenly things got a lot more bearable. He cheerily built both bikes while I was upstairs in my office pulling my hair out, still in extreme pain from my back and my peach. On the upside Chris was being sweet as pie to me, an odd turn of events that always happens in the days following one of our fights. Nate and I drove home and headed out to Belmont. So fun to ride with him! We had gotten so much rain that it was an abbreviated course, more like a STXC, but I felt good and rode fast for an hour so I was happy, despite pain in my back, wrists, and peach. Nate got a little taste of Belmont, and I could not wait to show him more.
By Friday am my peach was enlarged and pissed off. Gryphon was in bad shape, and I called the doggy chiropractor to come to the house with Nate there while I rode my bike to work, but 20 seconds out of the door I realized that it was a mistake. By the time I got home Friday night my perineum was unspeakably swollen and painful, I had to ride standing the entire last mile up to my door. Gryphon was very weak and I should have taken him to the vet right then but I thought it was more of the same we had been dealing with for the past couple of months. But actually, he was dying.
The rest of the weekend turned out to be different than expected, but this post was only supposed to be about my shitty week, that is the week leading up to Gryphon's death and the end of my racing season. So if you got through this post and thought to yourself, how could it get worse? well, I'm about to tell you.
Be careful out there, or I guess I should say, "don't drive like me."
Saturday, July 24, 2010
But the season had been going well, and I was looking forward to racing this course since I used to regularly train there when I first started racing bikes and worked in Jersey.
It only took me 25 minutes to get to GCC. No traffic. I set up the trainer under a tree on the course right near where my "feed zone" would be, and started my warm up. Yes, the sucky thing about XC is I have to warm up, with a road bike, trainer, and powertap. It's a pain to lug all that but there is not getting around it.
When I got to the line we all realized that the competition was in 40+, the only young chicks racing were Kathleen Harding, Carolyn Popovic, and Deborah Leedale, who ended up DNFing. Katherine and Carolyn could fight it out for first place. So I started out fast, and about a quarter of the way through the lap a photographer told me I was a minute off the leaders. It felt good to fly, but I knew I would have to settle in a bit, which I did, and Andrea & Lisa were on my tail when I was going down a drop too fast and crashed hard. Endoed actually, I have no idea why. I lost 2 places, shook it off and got back on my bike.
Anyway, I had the second fastest first lap in my class, behind the winner Lauri Webber. I dropped 2 minutes between my first and second, but at least held it there for 2 more laps. So I have the endurance, just need to be able to hold the speed. Ended up 5th, won a few bucks, and felt really good about it. The best part was only having to do 4 laps. Are you kidding me? To be done a race in 2 hours and 19 minutes? And actually get paid cash for placing? I could get used to this again.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Not too much to say about Sunday in terms of racing, the STXC course was awesome, a great mix of field and little singletrack sections to make it interesting. My wrist and my peach were both throbbing in pain, and my legs were not happy either. I remember saying, in my attempt to convince myself that I needed to go out for an 8th lap on saturday, that if I did my legs would be noodles for the STXC. Which they were. My finish was not very strong. So I can't tell you how surprised I was when they were announcing the awards and they said I was third in the GC. I mumbled out loud, "how did that happen?" considering my poor showing in the NTT and the STXC, but I went up to the podium, shared some champagne with Nicole and Carolyn (we were told later that this was lame so the boys showed us up, see below) and received an envelope full of cash. Very cool.
As it turned out, I found out later in the week that the timing company had rushed the results out because people were wanting to leave (many already had, as some of us have families and jobs we have to attend to) and they had bumped me to third in the GC when I was actually fourth and Rebecca Frederick was 3rd. I did end up returning my cash to Mike who forwarded it on to her, but hey, at least I got some good pictures out of it.
But honestly one of the best parts of Sundays at the Stage Race is the Huffy toss. That damn bike weighs upwards of 60 pounds and I could barely drag it up the hill much less get any distance out of it. My attempt was somewhat weak, but Mike Festa's was weaker:
Kuhn had these really cool wooden medals made for all of us who did all three stages. Here we are (the ones that were left late Sunday) sporting our medals: "3 days/3 stages/one badass - me"
Anyway, the weekend was a ton of fun and I'm looking forward to doing it again next year. The Stage Race is fun not only for the racers but for their whole families, so really I don't understand why more people from my team don't do it.
Anyway, here is the link once again to all of the pics, enjoy. And come out next year and join us.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The first lap, even though it put me a bit in the red, felt pretty good. The course started with a reasonable climb and had a great mix of singletrack, the twisty, log-strewn stuff that Mike loves, a few field climbs, and some tough new trail that apparently had only been cut in the 4 weeks before the race. It sucked your energy out of you as it was spongy, not yet packed down. Add to that, it was in a part of the farm that had been recently logged there was no treecover to protect you from the sun, and it was very humid and hot on Saturday. By the middle of the second lap I was hurting and wondering why I felt so crappy and weak, and how the heck I was going to get through this race.
Carolyn chillin' with some watermelon post-race
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Got up early and had my granola and raspberries. It was quiet at the farm, the calm before the storm when the campers would arrive. The NTT course was already laid out, so I headed down the the basement, out of the heat, and opened up 10 boxes of prizes, organized and tallied them. This way Mike and his team could just come in and make up the prize bags quickly as needed without having to rummage through box after box. I then organized 200 t-shirts by size, folded them, and stuffed the swag bags. It took a few hours. Then my roommates showed up. Mike and Erica Yozell arrived with their baby, Isaac. I was sharing my attic room with 2 adults and a baby and they informed me when they arrived that young Isaac was teething and would be up every hour and a half. Yikes. I ended up sleeping on the couch for the rest of my stay and made use of earplugs and a sleep aid, since I had not slept well in weeks.
Finally night fell, and the first riders went off. I was not up until 10:30 or so. I tested my lights before my ride and they were intermittently turning off, so I changed the battery and they seemed fine. I felt good, and I love riding at night. I did get a chance to pre-ride it and the course was really fun; it had a great flow, some technical bits (of course) and it was fast. I felt as if I would do well tonight.
"What happened?," Mike asked me, putting down the microphone.
"My helmet broke, " I said, "and this light is a piece of shit." I had signed up to get a trial Lupine tonight but somehow that never happened. Mike Hebe chimed in that I could use his helmet and light.
Hebe was at the mic when I got in and announced to the crowd, "Hmmm. Andrea has another broken helmet. You have to wonder when one rider breaks two helmets in one TT if it is maybe the rider..not the helmet."
He forgot to mention when he handed me his helmet that the cage was broken and he had zip-tied it together, which is why when I tightened it down to fit my smaller head it broke. Thanks Mike. I'm going to tell your GF to buy you a new one for your birthday.
where the hell is she? do we need to send out the search dogs?
a suspiciously empty WaWa parking lot
Ok so Thursday I took the day off from work so I could head up to M’Ville and help Mike out. I would have liked to have left by 2, but by noon it was pretty apparent that this was not going to happen. I had not even started to pack and well.... I’m not such a good traveler so packing is quite a project for me.
Around 3 I was loading up the car and the skies looked really ominous. I decided I had better get everyting loaded before it started to pour and I opened up the hatch and ran into the house for another bag. In a matter of seconds it was coming down in buckets. I ran outside, hoping the key was in my pocket so I could close the windows. You don't actually need to put the key in the ignition to start the Infiniti, it just has to be somewhere in the car. I pushed the start button and the screen read “no key", alhough to me it was, "no dice." Crap. I ran back into the house, completely soaked now as were my leather seats, and I grabbed my spare set and ran back and out closed the windows. I finally got the car loaded up and hit the road at just about 5 pm. Rush hour traffic in Philadelphia, perfect timing.
The gas station at the bottom of the hill had police tape across it, no gas for some unknown reason. I decide to get the hell out of dodge and hit 76 west and get gas on the turnpike. Big mistake. It turns out once 76 becomes the turnpike there is no gas until the Downingtown exit. My guage flashed that I had 20 miles until I needed to refill. I was cutting it really close and started to wig. I called a friend for moral support as I was caught in stop and go traffic heading towards the exit. My guage started flashing with dotted lines, meaning (I thought) that I was a few miles from running out of gas. I was freaking out. I finally made it to the exit and used the Infiniti GPS to direct me to a gas station. When I got there I was ready to get out and kiss the ground I was so happy to have made it, but, wait, someting was wrong. There were cars everwhere, no one pumping gas, and people spread out on the grass trying to survive the heat. WTF? It turns out a tornado had blown through there and everything in town was closed because of the lack of electricity, I mean we are talking gas stations, restaurants, Wawa, Starbucks, the whole shebang. So everyone was waiting at the station to see if the electricity would come back on before they ran out of gas. I guess they all stupidly forgot to fill their tanks before they left the city too.