In order to get up
to Wilkesboro with plenty of time to get setup for the 6 Hours of Warrior Creek, my alarm was set for 5:00 a.m. When it went off Saturday morning, the
first words out of my mouth were, “I don’t wanna go.”
I was really
sick. It really started hitting me late
Friday evening, but I’m sure it was set in motion by racing in the cold the
weekend before. I really didn’t want to
get out of bed, even though it would’ve meant missing the biggest race of the
year. The little lady was already up and
moving, and went she said something to me I repeated myself.
“I don’t wanna go.”
“Oh, you’re going”
she said, “I don’t want to hear about how you missed this race because you were
sick.”
She was right, but
I really felt bad enough to consider missing it. Nevertheless, I eventually got up, got
dressed, and loaded up the truck. We
headed north a little behind schedule, but we would still have plenty of time
to spare. All I could think of was
taking a nap as soon as I got there. The
little lady lectured me a little bit, telling me that if I have a fever, I
shouldn’t race. Well, I did have a
fever, and I did plan to race. I mean, I
dragged my sick ass outta bed…
The drive went by
fast, and once we got there I thought I felt good enough to ride. It’s a six hour “race”, which meant that I
didn’t have to be in a hurry. I got all set up
and once everyone else started rolling in I sorta forgot about how bad I
felt. I said a lot of hellos and good
mornings to everyone, and before I knew it we were lined up at the start. I took my spot towards the back of the pack
and got ready to roll.
The parade lap
around the campground was a nice warm up, and rolling with Good Guy Greg,
Shanna, and the
Lowcountry Crew was a good way to keep me from forgetting how shitty I
felt. Once we hit the singletrack, I saw
the little lady waiting with her camera.
Well, I was “racing” I guess. Our group rolled together at a nice pace, and I really didn’t feel like I was killing myself out there. My legs felt stronger than ever, but I had a little trouble breathing. I tried to forget about it, instead focusing on the fact that I was having fun. I was on my bike, not at home in bed.
Photo cred: Chris Green
As the lap went on,
the miles ticked off quickly. We were
having fun as a group, chatting away and stuff.
They really kept my mind off being sickly and I appreciated it. Once we neared the end of lap one I made the
decision to pass through the pit and head right back out for lap two. My crew wouldn’t be there though…
What a dumb
decision. Or so I thought. I was riding strong, but I soon realized that
without the group I had on the first lap I wouldn’t make it. I toughed it out and picked up the pace,
refusing to get off and walk when the climbing got tough. I was dizzy, coughing, and had snot flying
everywhere.
I still looked good
enough for photos though:
I don’t remember
much about lap two, other than the fact that I rode everything pretty
well. With about a mile to go my water
bottles were empty, which meant that I would definitely have to stop for a
refill. My legs felt so good that I
didn’t want to, but…
I hit the pavement
loop around the campsite and gunned it towards the start/finish line. I heard people yelling my name here and
there, but I couldn’t look away from the road.
Once I rolled through the line I pulled over and tried to remove my arm
warmers. After a long struggle I got one
of them off. In the meantime, I saw
TomTom yelling something encouraging at me although I really couldn’t
hear. The only thing I heard was fellow
Niner Ambassador Bonnie K. asking me if I was okay. I looked over in that direction and I think I
said, “Yeah.”
I walked my bike
the short distance to my pit and sat down.
I was just gonna sit there for a minute or two, refill my bottles, grab
a quick bite to eat, and head back out.
I grabbed a drink out of my cooler (not beer, thank you), put a towel
over my head, and…
I couldn’t get up.
More tomorrow…
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