lookin' good after 206 miles...or maybe just looking like i rode 206 miles.
please note, jessie and my perma wave. love what those helmets do for the do!
as i have mentioned before, because i turned 30 on sept. 8th, i decided i needed to prove to myself that i still have it in me. i'm not exactly sure what "it" is. but, after the event, riding 206 miles through three states i have concluded that lototoja was the ride of a lifetime. it was amazing, but i don't believe i'll ever do it again. (there is a slight possibility that i may eat my words - but the possibility is just slight.) "don't ever let me do anything like that again," were, i believe, the first words i spoke to my support crew after i crossed the finish line.
most of the ride was picturesque. considering what i was doing, i felt really great mentally and physically for most of the ride. the only mechanical problem i ran into consisted of two flat tires due to about 12 thorns within the first hour of the ride. the weather couldn't have been more perfect. our support crew was at every stop and ready to fill us up with water, food, and words of encouragement. it was a rather amazing day, if i do say so myself.
a few things i'd like to be sure and remember about the day i rode from logan, ut to jackson, wy:
the love and support i felt from family and friends, and most of all from God, during the four months of training and the day of the race.
the blessing christian gave me the week before when i was getting close to breaking down mentally, and the blessing my dad gave me the night before as i was worried about breaking down physically. the reminder that God cares about significant and insignificant things. He can make the impossible possible and the weak strong.
the orange flamed EP flag my mom carefully crafted for me.
the fantastic mac & tom dinner she prepared the night before.
the excitement of crossing the starting line.
jessie shurtleff - i told her this, and i'd like to put it down for the record - i don't know that i would have made it through all the training rides, mental exhaustion and doubts, and physical lassitude without my dear, sweet, blonde-headed jessie. she's a keeper.
the phone call i made to christian when i had my flats and wasn't sure if we would have enough tubes or co2 cartridges. he was calm, cool, and collected as i was in a frenzied state of uncertainty.
our awesome orange jerseys
pulling up to the first feed zone, looking in a crowded sea of facing, hoping to see one i recognized. then, christian walking out of the sea with a smile on his face and waterbottles in hand.
the absolute pleasure of drinking ice, cold water.
the difference between trying to ride in a pace line of a bunch of guys who kept stopping and going and the smoothness of riding with jessie, meagan, and janessa in our own pace line. training together ended up being a huge blessing.
feeling great the whole way up the first pass.
slingshots with jessie - i love riding down hills with that girl. we ride well together.
the brutal headwind after the first canyon.
the rumble strips in ovid.
dejavu as we pulled into montpelier and rode over a bridge - a strange familiarity to riding my bike in taiwan.
the surprise of seeing my parents at the second feed zone in montpelier.
wild horses running down the mountainside as we were starting our second climb. it was surreal. i felt like i was in the man from snowy river, except on a bike and in spandex...and not in the middle of the horses, but watching them from the road we were riding on.
how hard it was to eat.
tampons - i don't think i'll expound on this one.
the wonderful volunteers.
the 1 km signs before the feed zones, and the anticipation of fresh water and words of encouragement.
feeling a bit nauseous as i was riding up the second pass.
the anticipation of the third pass and nowing that there wouldn't be anymore huge hills after that. then, seeing my parents at the top of that pass.
christian reporting that steph called and texted to check in and find out all the details.
christian reporting that his parents called from ghana to see how i was doing.
my mom cheering words of encouragement as they drove past.
mark - who joined us along the way. he was a good pacer and he liked how we rode together. he rode the last half with us. he was absolutely wonderful.
needing a bathroom REALLY bad. having to ride over rumble strips and wanting to cry because i thought my bladder may just explode. pulling over in some weeds that were rather exposed and taking care of business because there just wasn't anything else we could do.
pulling into the last feed zone and not wanting to eat anything. christian doing his job, forcing me to put some fig newtons into my mouth, chew, and swallow.
a pickle at every feed zone.
teton pass - wow! it was breathtaking. the mountains all around and river on one side of us.
the cheese crackers they provided at the neutral feed zones. those crackers couldn't have come at a better time. i didn't have energy to chew and i needed salt. cheap cheese crackers fit the bill.
looking at my watch and dreading the fact that 30 minutes had gone by, because that meant i had to eat more food.
seeing sweet tricia buck, from my ward, volunteering at the last neutral feed zone.
the red vines peaking out of jessie's back pocket.
praying, a lot. some prayers were asking prayers, others were gratitude prayers. the distinct feeling that i knew God was listenting to and answering each of my prayers.
my burning toes. for some odd reason, my toys would get unbearably hot. they hurt so bad. the pressure when i pulled and pushed to pedal was pretty excruciating. it happened a few times within the last 100 miles or so, and i prayed a lot during the last 100 miles or so.
14 miles to go. it seemed unreal - i couldn't believe we still had 14 miles.
jessie's parents driving alongside us and video taping jessie for a minute during that last 14 miles.
5 miles to go. i knew i could keep going for 5 more miles, right?
knowing i needed some calories within that last 5 miles but having a really hard time coming up with the energy to pull out the orange flavored sport beans from my back pocket, open them up and chew. feeling so grateful christian put them in my pocket at the last feed zone.
pulling the last five miles. it was getting dark and we were on a busy road. there wasn't opportunity to move to the back of the line. it was just too dangerous. my mental and physcial energy were waning. i was doing a lot of positive self talk and a lot of praying at that point.
an italian restaraunt i recognized
chasing daylight and feeling the pressure of needing to keep a good pace up front, or else our team may not finish before the finish line was taken down.
the 5 km sign
the 4 km sign
the 3 km sign
the 2 km sign
the 1 km sign
jessie and janessa yelling for me to slow down so that we could cross the finish line together.
seeing the finish line.
a burst of engery at the end to just CROSS THAT LINE.
feeling like crying, but not having the tears to do so.
crossing the finish line. wow. what a feeling. it was done.
14 hours and 23 minutes
shaking legs as i tried to clip out of my pedals and get off my bike.
christian running over to give me a hug and reminding me that i'd finished. i did it. it was done.
my mom and dad making their way over to give me hugs and tell me how proud they were of me.
legs that didn't want to work after i got off my bike.
getting really cold - thank goodness for christian's jacket and my dad's blanket.
standing in line for my finisher's hanger - a hanger made out of bike wheel parts.
my dad and mom telling me that paul bernstein called to check in and see how i was doing.
my dad handing me the phone and lance being on the other end of the line.
text messages and phone messages from ryan, and other friends.
teton village all lit up.
my left leg, especially behind my knee, feeling tighter than it has ever felt before.
my mom pointing out, the next day at church, the line in the hymn, "though thorny ways, lead to a joyful end" and giggling about it.
the beautiful drive home - and feeling so glad i was in a car and not on my bike.
and, after all that, i'm still 30 years old.
