Jason took photos of me whenever he could, parking the car in whatever town the next rest stop was and running out to meet me on the road, shouting encouragement and reminding me to smile for the camera.
One thing I don't have a photo of is him with blood streaming down the left side of his face, at the Sheridan rest stop. Strangely enough, I didn't think of taking a photo until at the end, with the EMT's, after they'd fixed him up. He had run out really far to get my photo; so far, in fact, that I turned around to go back and ride alongside him for a ways as he came back into the town. He said, "Go on, I'll meet you there."
So I did, and right after that he took a hard fall. He walked the rest of the way, and when I finally found him, he looked like an extra in a zombie movie.
We found the EMTs and they did a great job of fixing him up. And then he insisted that I get going, and he would catch up with me at the next rest stop. I looked for him all the way there and got worried because I didn't see him. But he had taken the safe way there, not driving past the riders. It was an incredible relief to see him, safe and sound.