This is Not a Story About Last Place

This post has a similar theme to the recent Taylor Phinney article in the Wall Street Journal.  It's a pretty good story - and you can CHECK IT OUT HERE.  

Unlike Taylor I actually wasn't last place.  On Saturday I raced the TRUE GRIT EPIC in St. George, UT.  It was the first round of the National Ultra Endurance series, which for those not familiar is a series of about a dozen of the toughest endurance races in the US, mostly 100 milers.  True Grit was actually 89, but I can assure you the rough, technical trails made it seem like far more than 100.  

The Phinney article talks about how much cyclist like to suffer... "Bike racing is a sport that fetishizes suffering. Anyone who's done it talks almost mystically about painful days on the bike, about the serenity achieved by pedaling through the agony".  

Yesterday, although a really tough day on the bike, wasn't about suffering for me.  I actually rode a pace that felt good to me most of the day.  My problem was that I had some bad luck and got a flat 12 minutes into the race.  My spare tube somehow got a hole in it in my seat bag or while I was trying to make the fix.  Just like that all of the other riders had gone by and I was left with no choice but walk back towards the car. I've put a lot of work in training this winter and at that moment I was super disappointed to have my first race end before it really started.  I was trying to tell myself a line from the article...  "This is no shame. It happens all the time. Fight another day."

The main feed zone for the race happened to be only a couple miles from the start and about a mile from where I flatted.  I walked back there, luckily Beth had just pulled up, and went to the car to figure out what to do for the day now that the race was over for me.  I decided that after the 6 hour road trip I should at least go check out the course and ride a lap (45 miles - the race was 2 laps).  So I fixed my tire and grabbed my phone so Beth could take Cameron back to the hotel and I could give her a call to come get me when I was done.  

After making my way back to the course for my fun ride I slowly started feeling good and picking up the pace.  In the article while pushing himself late in the race Taylor says... "I would just think about my dad".  I thought about my dad too.  But this time it was my heavenly dad.  Even though I was frustrated about "my race" I was reminded what a lucky guy I am with my health, opportunities to ride, and awesome wife and daughter supporting me the whole way.  There was nothing to prove, I didn't ride myself into the ground.  I just enjoyed riding hard when it felt good, backed it off when I needed to, and finished the event I came to do.  

It was a really tough ride, one of the longest I'v ever done, and almost 8 hours, 89 miles, 5,000 calories, and 10 million rocks later I finished the True Grit Epic.  God's plan for me there was a little different than what I had in mind, but once I accepted that, it was a truly great day!