Just woke up from a nap convinced that this weekend hadn't happened yet. Very strange and more than a bit disconcerting!
By now
you've probably seen the results, or you saw me -- shell-shocked -- sitting in my pit before dawn on Sunday morning, or you passed me sometime between 12:15 and 2:15 on the trail, either walking or barely able to turn the pedals. Sorry if I didn't get out of your way in time -- I could barely get out of my own!
I rode well for the first 12 hours on Saturday, on track to hit my lap goal and put myself solidly on the podium. But I was also at my limit, I don't think I was eating enough, and when things started to go wrong I imploded. I was OK after the first flat (that also dented my rear wheel), but after the second and third, and then problems with my lights, I fell apart. Two, two-hour laps in a row was too much for me mentally, and I sat down about 2:15 and gave up. My goal was out of reach, and emotionally I couldn't handle it.
This is where I have to say thank you in a deeply profound way to my crew. I made a concession speech about 12:15, after the first 2-hour lap, and they still sent me out on my way with encouragement. And when I completely broke down two hours later, unable to even get off my bike, they were there to catch me. Most of all, Kim was there with a steady hand and a soft shoulder, and somehow managed to put me back together again with enough room to salvage my mind and my spirit. I'll be back out there fighting again soon, and I owe it all to them.
THANK YOU.So Kim did what she could to put me back on my bike, but in the end I told her no. I curled up on a cot in our tent, she put a sleeping bag over me, and three hours later it was dawn. (Apparently she checked on me after an hour and I told her I was cramping, but I don't remember it!) After hearing Todd and then Brad leave for their laps from the safety of the tent, I got up, and then sat in a chair feeling sorry for myself ... Kim let me for a few minutes, and then talked me into trying a test run to see if I could pedal. We were only 20 hours into this thing, and after all, it's a 24-hour race, right? Down Main Street and back, and before I knew it I was through the chute and clocking in ...
I went through a high period at first, telling myself that I could get three more laps if I tried. But then I hit a low, and told myself I wanted no more part of this -- just one lap was enough to prove I could do it. I rolled into the pit less than 90 minutes later, and realized that I could do two more, and that I really wanted my parents to see me finish strong rather than broken. So for them -- and Kim, and my crew, and me -- I headed back out. I caught up to Brad just past Red Bud, and we rolled in together at 9 a.m. With an hour left in the race, we rolled out together, and spent the next lap as we have all summer, taking the lead when one of us was strong, and supporting the other when we weren't. It wasn't the finish we had envisioned when we started 24 hours before, but it was a fitting end to a hard-fought battle, and there's no question that we both left everything we had out on the course.
I suppose when you're chasing the jersey, that's all you can do.
(HUGE congrats to Scott and everyone who finished out there. By all accounts, this was the hardest-fought 24-Hour Solo National Championship ever, and it was awesome seeing Scole Train up on the podium, a well-earned place in history. Way to go!)