I didn't get to the drop those 20 lbs. last week as I had hoped. Go figure. That would have made life a little easier. I'll admit I was nervous about finishing. I felt okay at the start and that helped. However, as a non-climber and a person who doesn't ride gears that often I was terrified all of the spinning would eat me alive. Eat me alive it did.
The start was interesting. This year they had you line up according to your approximate/realistic finish time. Needless to say I headed to the rear. I wanted no part of getting caught up in any craziness. I just needed to ride at my pace for the day. Once the horn sounded, it took me a few minutes to reach the start banner and about 7 to get to the one-lane bridge. I just prayed no squirrelies caught my wheel and took me down with them. There were riders everywhere.
Halfway in and I was making good time without even thinking about it. Smiling, chatting, laughing. I was working with people on the roads. It was a big, fun group ride. I saw Alex on the road after Aid Station #3. After the race he told me I looked good when he saw me. I felt good. Then it happened.
About 54+ miles in I had some issues to say the least. I all of a sudden got cold and clammy (mind you it was hot and humid). I had horrible stomach cramps. I couldn't stand upright. I was sweating profusely and had the shakes. I pulled off the side of the trail and had to sit there. I couldn't think. I couldn't get my legs to move. I went to the dark place. I took another drink and my body rejected it and I barfed it up about 30 seconds later. I've been hyponatremic before so I was very careful about intake. Fellow riders showed concern and pulled off to make sure I was okay. A guy sat with me for a bit and he made sure I could keep down fluids before he left me. He offered me a Pop-Tart and I thought I was going to barf again. I held it together. Drank a little more. Took some endurolytes and tried to eat a bar before I got up. I got up and walked my bike. I remember having trouble keeping one foot in front of the other and feeling drunk. I had about a two-hour time period where I was barely moving. I was a shell of a person. I played episodes of Seinfeld in my head to keep me going. I remember mumbling "Festivus for the rest of us," under my breath on a few occasions.
I was on a gravel road at the base of the big climb to Aid Station #5 and I came upon a tandem team. The chat and ride with the JV Squad tandem guys kept me alive. I think I even offered to put them up if they ever wanted to come to NJ to ride Ringwood, Wawayanda, Jungle Habitat or Diablo. That's how thankful I was for the JV Squad's smiles and conversation. Those guys were awesome.
No lights for me so I was a little nervous after my body let me know that it wasn't happy with this hundred malarkey. I did not want to be pulled because I did not have lights. I made it to Aid station #5 with plenty of time to spare. Everyone kept telling me Aid #5 is at the top of the 25 mile climb. It's not bad after that. BULL SHIT. Had I known what was after Aid station #5 I wouldn't have been so hopeful. Ignorance is bliss. The last climb was shorter but it was by far the most painful. There was carnage everywhere up the climb. Riders were sitting at the side of the trail moaning and clutching various body parts. Some were in the fetal position. I can't make this shit up. I attempted to spin up the final climb and realized people were walking as fast as I was pedaling. Hot mess. Tried to put it in a harder gear and pretend I was on the SS. It helped for a bit with forward progress but I was spent.
Everyone I spoke to complained how their hands were killing them on the downhills and that they were afraid they would slip off the brake. The final down hill was interesting for me. My grip was sketchy at best at that point. I had to pull over and walk, not because it was technical, but because I couldn't hold onto the bars without the fear that my hands would slip off the brake and I would be catapulted into a ravine. I'd made it that far without a crash I didn't want to end my hopes of finishing at mile 96. That would be a kick in the ass. Walking the downhill to the finish? Seriously? Welcome to Shen.
It's always the unflattering photos that tell the real story
I gave my hands a little pep-talk and got back on and I realized I was dropping into the campground. The smile was back. I could hear the people and the cheers as I came in and I couldn't stop smiling. Mike, Jane and Alex were all there to welcome me home. Tired. Spent. Stoked. A weight has been lifted.
I'm saying it once again, you are my Hero! You are always fighting and accomplishing unbelievable feats - such stamina. I couldn't be more proud if you were my very own daughter! I'm so happy you are part of my family!
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