Keep the Earth Below My Feet

Sometimes all you have is a hellacious trainer ride at 11pm.
Do work, son.

"No one ever said it would be easy...they said it would be worth it."  This is one of the reoccurring lines I feed myself on the daily.  I've been trying to embrace this mantra for years.  Try as I may, I really never felt like I got it.  I have been faced with disaster, heartbreak, ill motivation (or lack of) and pure unadulterated hatred. 

 

The last few weeks have filled my soul with more than I could ever ask for.  The increasing rate at which I ride my bicycle has overcome me.  It's taken over.  The fellowship of people who share my love (and addiction) for this sport have changed me for the better.  I've taken a huge leap...I wouldn't go as far as saying a "leap of faith".  The jury is still out on that...

 

I've recently started training to improve my fitness and abilities on the bike...mostly cyclocross.  I realize I'm not where I want to be and serious efforts must be put forth before I can see the rewards.  This is the one sport in my lifetime that I actually have to work my ass off for.  I was naturally good at basketball...volleyball...softball.  Not saying I never had to practice...but I was good.  Cycling, in all genres, has snapped me back into reality.  It hurts like a mutha, sucks like a mutha and makes me very angry sometimes.  The joy I get when I see small improvements is enough to keep me coming back. 

 

I thank my glorious friends for allowing me to tag along during their cycling endeavors.  Mostly, I thank my brother for making me a tough girl, teaching me the joy of "dude sports" and dragging me around as a kid.  He planted the seed and my amazing cycling family is fostering serious growth.  Big things are going to happen.  You'll see.

 

I'm still in an emotional standstill with my job.  My heart is confused.  I love medicine.  I love helping people.  I love the freedom that my job comes with...but something isn't adding up right now.  I can't put my finger on it, but there is a huge disconnect.  I desperately hope I figure this out soon.  It's like the lights are on, but no one is home.  :/ 

 

The face of confusion

As most of my close friends know, I'm a terrible decision maker.  I have a tough time with commitment and I agonize over the smallest decisions.  I don't ever want to wonder "what if" and regret choices I didn't make.  I also hate dealing with the heartbreak of knowing my decision didn't work out the way I had hoped.  It usually takes me a while to recover from a big disappointment, and even longer to recover from a epic train wreck as a result of a very poor choice.  I know I probably set myself up for most of this, but I watched my mother fall apart when things didn't work out her way.  In all fairness, I got it honest.  I just didn't make any efforts to squash it as I was growing up.

 

I talk about the last year of my life fairly often...the change that occurred in me was monumental.  I became a solid rock, a confident human and one bad ass woman.  Of course, on the inside I'm still a scared, naive little girl.  My outer shell reeks of cynicism, apathy and independence.  I learned to depend TOTALLY on myself.  I became confident in the person I grew up to be...finally in a place some people only dream of.  I guess it's time to step out of my comfort zone once again.  If I spend the rest of my life safe from the outside world, I'll never grow.  I'll stop learning.  I'll become stagnant.  It's not going to be easy, but nothing ever is.  The easy stuff sucks.  The easy stuff doesn't make you strong.  People who can't handle life fall back to the easy stuff.  I'm not that person anymore.  So here I go...

When Rule #9 Isn't Enough

Second official week as a "cross racer" in the books.  The conditions were epic.  Mud.  Rain.  Cold.  I was nervous as usual and concerned I would finish last.  My heart was where it needed to be, but my body was slow to follow.  

Not many chicks in the Cat 4 race.  I didn't expect large numbers, but I hoped I would have more competition this time around.  Mostly, I just didn't want to be last.  My expectations were high...possibly higher than they should have been.

I'll spare you the play-by-play...if you were there, you know.  The course was technical, sloppy and sketchy.  Mountain bikers had a serious advantage...handling skills were a must!  I did exceptionally well on the backside (which was a slop fest) and died on the front (climbing).  My teammate smoked me two days in a row, but she's an 11 year-old cross country runner and amazing athlete.  I'll give myself a break on that one.

Even with the realization that I'm not quite "there" on a fitness level, I am mentally ready to rip the legs off my competition.  I've always been super competitive in all my athletic endeavors...it's hard to shut that off.  I know it's my first season of CX, but I wanna be strong all around.  I've got the technical skills to murder the field, but my motor is something like what you'd find in a Vespa. 

I had a blast both on and off the course (the trees were softer than I thought they'd be)  :)

The coolest part of the weekend was a super technical "W" in the course.  Saturday wasn't quite as sloppy as Sunday and we could ride all the way through it.  Many of my friends and other spectators were gathered around to heckle riders as they walked or rode it out.  Lots of screaming and cowbells.  I was motivated to show them I could do it in spite of my burning lungs and rising vomit chunks.  Nothing felt better than surprising both the crowd and myself as I weaved my way through and up those two hills.  It's what kept me going.

This is my pain cave.

I'll get there...come hell or high water.  And when I do...you better watch out.  I'm coming for you.

WTH is zone 2??

Photo by Dwight Wyatt

Just when you think you've experienced the "toughest ride ever", life kicks you right in the throat.  Welcome to cyclocross Miss Archer!

 

Apply rule #9 (Brian Archer's extreme fan video)

(If you are out riding in bad weather, it means you are a badass. Period.

Fair-weather riding is a luxury reserved for Sunday afternoons and wide boulevards. Those who ride in foul weather – be it cold, wet, or inordinately hot – are members of a special club of riders who, on the morning of a big ride, pull back the curtain to check the weather and, upon seeing rain falling from the skies, allow a wry smile to spread across their face. This is a rider who loves the work.)

 

This past weekend was the Mud, Sweat and Gears series opener at Domtar Park in Kingsport, TN.  I had been anxiously awaiting this moment since May and had no real idea of what I would be getting into.  Sure, I've been to tons of CX races throughout my years in Boone and watching my bro, but I had never had the pleasure of being in the hurt locker with some of my closest friends.  After Pisgah Monster Cross, I was certain I had the "hardest day ever".  70 miles, 10,000 vertical and 7.5 hours in the saddle...you'd think I could handle two 30 minute races, right?

 

Cat 4 ladies lined up at the start.
Photo by Autumn Lewis

 

My adrenaline was pumping all morning and my obnoxious voice was heard all over the course.  CX is one of the few sports where I don't get kicked out for my boisterous comments.  I had the pleasure of joining some tough chicks on the MSG Women's Team this season.  I never expected to be part of the team, especially my first year, but these ladies welcomed me with open arms.  Time to get this thing started...

 

First race on Saturday was a hot mess.  It had rained off and on all morning and OF COURSE started pouring right before my race.  When I say POURING, I mean the course looked like a creek.  At this point I wondered if I could even stay upright on the bike.  My stomach was flipping all over the place and I could barely breathe...we lined up.  The guys started ahead of us...we waited...longest 2 minutes of my life. 

 

"Riders get ready!"  I thought my heart was in my throat.  Go time.  I pedaled my way to the front of the pack...then realized I had the holeshot.  "SHIT!  Now what?"  I was in front with no idea how I got there and heard Jamie behind me, "Megan, that was fast."  Well, yeah...I didn't mean to.  For some odd reason I thought it was a good time to slow down and let her pass me.  Rookie mistake.  Even though she would eventually smoke my ass, I should have stayed up front as long as I could.

 

The course was sloppy and slick, but still manageable.  I realized running barriers on tired legs didn't look as graceful as it did in practice, nor did it feel good.  I was trying to hang on to anything that might take my mind off the pain and suffering I was experiencing. 

 

Lap 2.  I thought, "Oh my God.  I might die today."  I tried to stay in front of Grace (an 11 year-old who probably came out of her mama's tummy on a bike), but she had a long distance runner's fitness and passed me.  I didn't like it, but I knew I had to save myself for the remainder of the race.  Jenna was close behind and I was killing myself to stay in front of her.  We played cat and mouse for a while and she got out in front of me.  At some point I passed her, but to be honest, I can't remember when.  I think I had a 'brown out' to numb the agony I was in. 

 

I hear Kim Bishop yell, "This will be your last lap! Give it all you got right here!"  Sweet!  Just hang on for one more lap!  I decided to push myself even harder.  I made it to the finish line and then I realized we STILL had another lap.  (Insert a very bad word HERE).  

 

I felt the vomit chunks rising...I could hear the wheezing in my lungs.  I guess it was time to nut up or shut up.  So I did.

 

I don't remember much of the last lap.  I don't remember much of the finish.  I managed to hold the #3 spot out of 6.  I was happy.  I managed to surpass more than I thought I could handle.  My team kicked butt too.  

 

Mud.  Everywhere.

 

Day two.  The course was TRASHED.  More mud than the day before, but a much different texture. 

 Thankfully, I have SOME mountain bike skills that allowed me to stay on the bike and off the ground.  I pedaled through the thick gunk and managed to get through all the sketchy spots without skipping a beat.  We had two run-ups that really sucked, but I actually rode one of them on the final lap of my race.  I felt pretty awesome at this point. 

 

 Jamie kicked all of our asses, Grace 2nd, Me 3rd and Jenna C. 4th.  I got beat by an 11 year-old two days in a row.  I'd like to thank Andrew Stackhouse for pointing this out.

 

She is a beast and will surely be a powerhouse to reckon with as she gets older.  I want to be like her when I grow up.

 

Pretty sure I'm pushing a HR of 200ish here.
Photo by Sybil Smith.

Long story short, CX rules.  It hurts...probably more than anything I've ever done.  The payout is worth every suffering moment.  The endorphins are like nothing I've ever experienced.  The crowd makes me smile.  My teammates make me feel loved.  I am hooked for life and can't wait to see what this season has in store for me.  I look forward to many more miserably awesome races.  Maybe I'll become a better athlete...maybe...

 

Maybe Aaron Casey will be my forever Pit Bitch?!

 

Doubt it.

All this over a new bike??

So the time has come...an opportunity for a new road bike.  I'm fairly limited to what kind to get, how much to spend and my deadline for decisions.  Luckily, a few of the bikes I really like fall under all the restrictions.  Unfortunately, I spent a good part of my afternoon in the shop oogling over various catalogs and comparing specs.  My brain was experiencing serious information overload...

This is what brain overload resembles...

What if the payments are too much?  What if the bike isn't the right size?  Can I get a better frame somewhere else?  Do I really need Di2?  Do I really need carbon?  Should I just wait until next year?  What if, what if, what if?

 

You'd think I was making some big life decision...like "should we have a baby?"

 

Which got me thinking...am I ever gonna have a baby?

 

Sheesh.  Can't we just focus on the bike right now?

 

But, seriously...

Everyday on facebook, I see the baby bumps of all my friends across the globe.  Don't get me wrong...I'm not a hater.  It just makes me wonder if I'm headed down the same path.  If I am, I guess I should be moving my feet a little faster because this cougar ain't gettin' any younger.  A bigger issue would have to be...well...the other part of the equation that helps create the baby.  I mean, I can't even find someone I can stand for 5 minutes, so who am I gonna have a baby with?  Hahahah.  Makes me laugh. 

 

I've said it all before and I'll say it again.  I'm not who I was a decade ago.  Hell, I'm not who I was 5 years ago.  My focus was always on the opposite sex and why they didn't want to go out with me.  My failed relationships were pretty haggard (yeah I said haggard) and I always felt discouraged.  I spent a great deal of my life being bummed out and lonely, or so I thought.  I had plenty of great friends surrounding me, but I always thought I needed a man.

 

 

Ladies, let me be the first to tell ya...you DON'T need a man.  Something snapped inside my little pea brain within the last year...something BIG.  I'm single and don't really care to mingle.  In fact, there isn't anyone in the Tri-Cities that I would cut out a Wed Night Ride for.  True dat.  When I find a guy that makes me want to skip a bike ride, I'll let you know all about him.  Until then, I'll keep doing my thang just the way I want to. 

 

 

 

Yes, things get boring and lonely at times, but you adjust to that.  I've recently been asked out a few times and I've declined because I'm "just not that into you".  I'm way more into my own world right now.  Is that selfish?  Yes, but I spent most of my life trying to please others without giving myself a second thought.  Does this make having children difficult?  Yes.  I don't really have a better answer for that one...

 

My point tonight?  Not sure.  I just felt moved to preach the gospel to you ladies out there.  Men too.  Don't settle for someone just because you are lonely or bored or because you think you're too old to be single.  Do what you want...live how you want...ride your bike when you want.  All that other noise is bullshit. 

 

Maybe pulling the trigger on a new bike isn't that difficult after all??

Beers and bikes and demolition...oh my! (Megan's first Interbike)



 

After my first (BRUTAL) endurance race, I came home to a freshly made bed and tried to rest up for my flight to Vegas.  My legs and rear end had other plans...they kept me awake.  There wasn't any good position to sleep in after climbing 10,000 feet on a cross bike in 7.5 hours.  And while I was second to last in the female division, my legs didn't know the difference.  I finally gave up around 3:45 and decided to make a pot of coffee.  Let's get ready to rumble!

 

I met up with Trevor and Chapman at the airport and they immediately made fun of the way I was dressed.  "If I had known you were such a girly girl, I would have made you stay at home."  Of course, they were joking...few people have seen the other side of Megan.  My closet full of cuteness demanded to be worn.  I listened.  I'm a 31 year-old, single and tom boyish chick.  What do you expect me to wear on a trip to Vegas?  And yes...I had make-up on too!

 

We love beer.

 

The waiting and sitting was making my already sore legs, well, sore.  I was super ready to land in the city that never sleeps.  Once we landed, we grabbed our bags and waited in the SUPER long line to catch a cab.  It was hot as hell.  I forgot about that...but at least there was no humidity.  She is my arch nemesis...humidity makes me want to break stuff.  Anyway, we made it to the hotel and shimmied our way up to our room.  It was time to check out the strip...

 

 

 

As we made our way to the Interbike registration, we noticed all kinds of interesting people.  Drunk bums, drunk college girls, drunk old people and drunk drunks.  It was like walking into a Walmart with an open bar.  Once we took care of business, we decided it was beer thirty. 

 

I'll just skip to the next day because of two reasons... 1) I can't be 100% I'm giving correct information due to the number of adult beverages I consumed and 2) No one wants to hear about awesome cover bands and gangster rap...other than myself.  And besides, we were in bed by 9:30 if that tells you ANYTHING.  I did get to dance...a lot.  Which is more than I could ask for :)

 

 

 

Monday was first day of Outdoor Demo.  Bootleg Canyon was always a destination for my downhill buddies when I lived in Mammoth Lakes.  I never made the trip but had always heard them gushing about it.  It was a hot day in the desert and there were TONS of companies reppin' their stuff.  Beers, food, music and lots of bikes.  Once we hopped off the bus, I realized how beneficial an IV setup would have been.  Meggie needed hydration in a bad way...apply rule #5 here and let's play on some bikes.

 

Mmmmm...Giant

 

First bike I rode was a Giant W's Anthem 29er.  Let me tell you something....IT WAS SIIIIICK!  It felt like a cloud and I felt like an angel riding it across the technical sections.  It was like watching a movie in slow motion...smoooooooth.  I got excited after clearing a sketchy section and decided I was going to increase my pedal strokes just a tad.  Time to get this lady movin'!

 

I got her movin' alright.

 

I came around a small berm and the world stopped immediately.  I'm pretty sure I washed out...when I did, I flew over the handlebars and my left leg slammed into the stem.  I did a few rolls and instantly stood up.  I landed on my chest and couldn't catch my breath.  I was trying to laugh my way into a happy place when Chapman pulled up. 

 

"Dude, did you crash?"

No, dipshit, I'm just covered in dirt and my handlebars are turned all the way around.

"Dude, look at your leg"

 

As I looked down I noticed an immediate and very large hematoma.  I noticed there were a couple of them, actually.  They hurt pretty darn bad, but I wanted to be tough so I got back on my bike.  "I'm alright" (and so sketched out that I rode like a 4 year-old to the next aid station). 

 

The start of something BIG.

 

We stopped at the tent and I got some water.  I felt like a tard...oh well.  Next!

 

We turned in our bikes and checked out more of the demo.  Lots of rad bikes and funky ideas.  Some of my favorites booths were Yeti, Giant, Surly (of course) and Zee.  I saw more DH bikes than I ever needed to see and wanted to ride one pretty bad.  Since I crashed on a non DH trail and I was now Mayor of Wussville, I passed.  The guys were trying to get me to do the Downhill Challenge where people had the opportunity to race against the clock.  I declined.  I would have killed myself.

 

 

 

 

 

We rode around on some different bikes...and tested out more of the ground...or at least I did.  I went over the handlebars YET AGAIN in a pretty loose patch.  This time I wasn't turning or going particularly fast...I just ate it HARD.  I flipped to my right side, tearing up my leg, elbow, hip and shoulder.  My helmet saved the day when my head slammed onto the ground.  We were sure I had cracked it, but luckily I hadn't.  I had blood everywhere and ripped up my jersey.  At this point I was just plain pissed off that I couldn't stay on my bike.  Chapman offered his advice..."Maybe you should try slowing down."  Thanks, Captain Obvious.

 

 

Clean me up, hottie!



 

We headed back to the tents and by this time my hangover was cured and all I had was a headache, probably from slamming my cranium into the desert floor.  We decided to eat and check out some other stuff in and around the demo.  Met all types of cool folks and jammed out to a great DJ at lunch.  On our way out, little angels were handing out water and cans of Sierra Nevada.  Torpedo will bring me back to life!  We went out to eat and met up with some reps...then I rode a mechanical bull.  It was a good day!

 

 

Megan's official beer of Interbike.

 

 

 

Day 2 of Dirt Demo had a little different feel.  We had 26 miles of the Tour de Lake Meade and I had been lined up with a Giant Avail with Di2.  That stuff is smooth like a baby's butt!  Meggie likey!

 

 

Purple Gurple.

 

The first half of the ride was screaming down a hill pretty much all the way to the lake.  The lead pack was flyin' and I tried my best to keep up without all the wobbly kooks whizzing by me on both sides.  Sketchy sketch balls.  Once it flattened out, I decided that 25 mph was faster than I wanted to go and I slowed down a lot.  I was still feelin' Monster Cross in my quads.  We arrived at the lake and took some shots...

 

Photos...not actual shots...

 

The ride back to the demo was up, up and away.  Hmmm.  I love climbing.  Not!  It actually wasn't bad once we got out of the lake basin.  I kept it slow and steady like a turtle and made it back to the Giant tent in one piece.  Thank God I haven't learned how to crash on a road bike...yet.  I was feeling a little snotty at this point and figured it was just allergies from all the dust.  I would later learn that I had SARS.  Ok, not really, but it could have been?!

 

 

 

We milled around demo, ate, drank and rode bikes.  We played on Surly's Pugsly...it was fat.  As silly as you might think they are, they can actually hold a pretty solid line.  I had a great time riding that little thing.  This is where I picked up my new name..."Molly the Shop Kitty".  God bless those guys at Surly.  They are the jam. 

 

 

 

 

Does this bike my my ass look fat?

 

 

 

Fast forward to dinner...drinks...SRAM 25th Anniversary industry party at Lavo.  More dancing...the boys did some gambling.  Pretty mellow evening.  The next day was day 1 of the actual Interbike trade show...let's see mo' bikes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scott Sub

 

When I walked into the show, I immediately gasped.  It was HUGE!  I felt like Charlie when he entered the Chocolate Factory...except there were no Oompah Loompahs and I couldn't find the chocolate river.  I met quite a few of our local reps and got a sneak peek at what's new for 2013.  I learned a TON and it did nothing but spark more of an interest in these little wheeled beings.  Cool folks everywhere and we all had one great thing in common...bicycles.  We had a few meetings, discussed ideas for the shop and took lots of bike photos...

 

 

 

New Hospital Foam Crosscheck

 

 

Ritchey 650b

 

Wednesday night was Cross Vegas.  Loved this!  I had the pleasure of checking out some rad women on bikes like Alison Powers and Robin Farina.  I felt like ass in a can by this night and the only thing to numb my bird flu pain was Sierra Nevada Torpedo.  I drank till we had to ride the bus back and then I died.  Pretty sure I was going to wake up in a puddle of my own drool...with SARS.  Yep.  It was that bad.  I somehow managed to stay in the "fun zone" until it was bedtime...thank goodness!

 

 

 

 

 

Both my phone and my camera died, so my CX photos are lame and limited.  And blurry.  Boo.

 

 

Thursday.  More trade show.  More bikes.  More cool ass people.  Thursday night...Sinclair party.  It was the jam.  I stayed out too late and had a few too many...so did everyone else.  I dance till I had blisters on both my feet...multiple places.  It was like I ran a marathon in a pair of Keds. 

 

 

We wrapped things up on Friday.  Last minute stroll through the bikes and last minute chats with reps.  I was tired and ready to go home, but sad to return to my "normal life" as a paramedic.  The more time I spend in the bike world, the less I want to be a full-time paramedic.  I'm starting to think about my B.S. in Recreation Management again...will it ever end?

 

The moral of this story, while poorly written, is Interbike opened my eyes.  I'm down for this industry and stoked to see what new things come our way.  I'm even more stoked to finally have a basic knowledge of what I'm doing in the shop.  I can't wait to get back in there and sell the shit out of some bikes.  I met some super awesome folks too...Jamie, Tarbell, Joanna etc.  I actually saw some people that I knew...mostly from my Mammoth and Boone days.  It's for sure a small world out there. 

 

I'm sick, beat up and still very exhausted from my week in Vegas...but ready to hit the shop tomorrow morning and see what I can do.

 

No really...I can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Shut Up Legs! (Pisgah Death March)

 

You know you just did something rad when your own brother admits "I didn't really think you would finish."  To be honest, I was pretty certain I wouldn't either.  I signed up for this race to see what my body was capable of, figuring I'd die or at the very least, get pulled due to time limits.  It is very apparent from the bodily pain I am in at this moment...that I finished.

 

0745 hours...

We gathered at the starting line and chatted with some friends.  I saw my old college classmate from App and we caught up for a bit.  Always nice to see familiar faces at out of town events.  I glanced at the "competition" and sized up who I thought I could potentially beat.  I for sure knew the guy with the baby pink Specialized with purple bar tape was gonna smoke my ass.  You don't mess around with a bike like that.  The girl wearing butterfly wings, a tutu and pink socks wasn't going down without a fight either.  You're either going to A) Drink beer in the lot once the race starts or B) Chick every dude there.

 

0800 hours...

Cowbells a blazin'...here we go.  I must say, the first section of fire roads sucked big hairy you-know-whats.  At one point I was "climbing" a 14% grade.  I walked a few sections just because I knew I had an entire day in the saddle...what's a few yards?  The downs were just as hard as the ups.  Pisgah climbs bring Pisgah descents.  Cross bikes...not made for rutty, rocky, fast downhill.  Sketchy to say the least.  I did the best I could, but those roads beat me up.  I never crashed, but my hands felt like they had been smashed with an anvil.  Super. Epic. Sketchiness.

 

1000 hours...

After suffering like a dog for 20 miles of fire roads, I saw the first aid station.  Hell yes...

I ate pb&j, filled my bottles and continued on my way.  I still had 50 miles to go and I had made the first cut off by 2 hours.  Double hell yes...

Second aid station was only 8 miles away.  I was ready to rumble.  I could feel my "dark place" creeping up and was starting to feel some anxiety about finishing.  I pedaled and ate and drank and pedaled and drank...and walked a few 9% graded areas.  Caught up to a couple of guys riding Surlys.  They passed me around mile 10.  I decided to go up ahead of them because I just knew they'd pass me on the climb.  I needed a head start. I just wanted to see the Blue Ridge Parkway. 

Be very careful what you wish for...

 

I know why the second aid station was only 8 miles from the first.  It took me FOREVER to get there.  The Blue Ridge Parkway in Pisgah is much more gnarly than anything I remember riding when I lived in Boone.  8%, 9% and the gut busting 16%...filled in with some "false flats" at 4%.  With the exception of a few very SHORT downs, I spent 27 miles climbing from the first aid station to the turn off onto 215 from the Parkway.  My sit bones were screaming two hours into the ride and now I was dying.  At this point I was having very dark thoughts and wondering if I could catch the sag wagon.  Please, please God just let me finish.  That's all I want.  I looked behind me...those two guys were gone.  I had dropped them.  Freaking amazing.

 

215 was BITCHIN' and just what I needed to boost my confidence and moral.  8 miles of FAST, curvy DESCENT!!!  I was freezing my happy ass off by this time, but really enjoying myself.  Cross tires bring an element of sketchiness though...not as sticky on the big turns.  Gotta watch yourself.  I came up on another chick.  Finally, another rider!!  I spent most of the day alone and never thought I'd see another person till the end.  She was locked up on her brakes the whole way down and I had to pass her.  I worked hard for this and YOU WILL NOT MAKE ME RIDE MY BRAKES!

 

1300ish hours...

Aid station number 3...BOOOYAAAH!  The fine fellas at Sycamore Cycles hooked me up with GU Brew and a few more pb&js.  Amazingly, I ate like a cow during the ride and had hunger pains at this point.  Seriously?  Hunger pains?  I did my thang and got back on the bike.  14 miles to go.  I had this biatch in the bag. 

 

The girl I passed on the big downhill passed me back on the last section of gravel.  I gave the 11% grade the middle finger and got off my bike.  HIKE-A-BIKE in full effect!!  My little friend decided that was a great idea and we had a nice little chat about how miserable we'd been all day.  :)

We decided to keep each other company for the last 12 miles, most of which were downhill or flat.  I was getting excited at this point.  I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was gonna finish this race. 

 

As we came around the corner, I saw blue lights.  Was that it?  Were we at the campground?  I saw the Pisgah Ranger Station and almost started crying.  I looked back and shared the good news with my little friend.  She was stoked too.  Made the turn into the parking lot and thought I was just going to rip through the finish...ooooooh no.  Not in the Pisgah.  I was shocked to see 3 CX barriers between me and the finish.  Everyone was yelling and cowbells were banging...I had to dismount after 70 miles of hell and run my bike through 3 barriers. 

 

So I did.

 

I saw Anet and Mike at the finish and broke down in tears.  I looked at my watch and I had done the race in roughly 7.5 hours.  I beat my goal by 2.5 hours.  I honestly thought it would take me closer to 10 hours to finish...I surprised myself.  I was so happy...so proud...and felt pretty badass.

 

Speaking of ass, can someone pass me the donut pillow?  I'm in agony over here.  :)

 

Next up? Interbike!

 

 

What did I eat today?  Glad you asked...

 

2 honey stinger waffles

1 bonk breaker

1 pack of honey stinger chomps

3 chocolate #9 gels

1 hammer gel

3 small pb&js

2 bananas

5 bottles of water and electrolyte mix

 

Post race:

1 Budweiser (best one and last one ever!)

Burrito

 



Poppin' the enduro racing cherry...or somethin' like that.

If you can't hang with the big dogs, dress like 'em.

So you wanna be an endurance racer, eh?  Well, put on your big girl panties and let's do this thang!

 

I'm sitting here looking at the big pile of stuff on my bed and trying to remember how to take the rear wheel off and put it back on after changing a tube.  I know I'll be changing a tube at some point on Saturday.  You're probably saying to yourself, "Really? You don't know how to do it?"  It's not that I don't, it just takes me MUCH longer than the average bear to do something a shop guy can do in 5 minutes.  Please lord, if I have to get a flat, let it be in the front.

 

Duckman has decided to join his little sister in a day of fun and agony in the Pisgah.  I'm happy he'll be there when I finish...and hope he isn't pissed when he has to wait a couple extra hours :)  Please have the following items ready at the finish line:

1. Beer

2. Burrito

3. Ice pack for my ass

 

If that isn't enough physical punishment, my flight to Vegas leaves from the Tri-Cities the next morning at 8:30.  Talk about torture!  Sore and sleepless...pass the wine, please.  On a positive note, Interbike should be a rad week of fun and learning.  I'm beyond thrilled and grateful for an epic opportunity like this.  Cool stuff doesn't happen to this girl very often...I'm gonna bask in it for a while.

 

I'll give ya a rundown after the race and hopefully have photos of what went down in Vegas...because that crap doesn't actually stay in Vegas.  Whoever came up with that is a liar. ;)