The date started with the sun rising over the reservoir in Boulder, Colorado. The glow from the sun was a hue of yellow, red and orange; vibrant colors that seemed to dance over the water's edge. I hid behind my bag as my sister made remarks about cats, crazy people and The Lord of the Rings. My heartbeat was calm, but I was still excited to make eye contact with my date. Mom, Amanda, Kaylee and I stepped off of the yellow school bus in which we had traveled to the Boulder Resevoir. They helped me prepare for the date by holding my belongings while numbers were painted on my muscular calves and arms. I put on my nicest wetsuit and braided my hair back out of my face. My sister's arms wrapped around my neck and tears formed in her eyes. I think she knew this would be love before I even knew. Amanda snapped a photo and my mom looked at me with eyes that said, "You've got this, but if you don't, I'm still your biggest fan."
Like a headless chicken, I wandered through the crowds trying to find my one and only. My neoprene-clad arms pushed their way through the crowds to the sign that read "1:15-1:30". The woman on my right anxiously played with her pink breast cancer bracelet. I started conversation and we spoke of life, love and butt-kickings while we shuffled our feet forward. When my toes collided with the water, I knew the moment had come. I positioned my goggles and dove into the liquid, feeling my body become buoyant.
The start was slow as every time I tried to sped up, I found myself getting kicked in the chest or grabbing onto someone's foot. Pink, green and white caps bobbed all around me. Mouths gasping for breath, eyes shaded by tinted goggles, arms splashing the surface. I was so distracted by the multitudes of people surrounding me that I barely even noticed when the swim was over. People around me were trudging up the boat ramp while I was still using my arms to pull my way through the material. When my hand hit the concrete, I pulled myself to an upright position and ran toward the grass. A hand pulled my strap from behind, causing me to choke back like a dog on a leash. "Just undoing your wetsuit," he informed me.
A cute blond women who looked like Kristen Bell's long lost cousin jumped in front of me and told me to sit down on the ground. What? Why would I sit? "I'm going to strip you. Sit down." I plopped my butt down with a thud onto the muddy grass while she peeled the suit off of me like a banana peel. When I stood, my butt was brown with thick mud.
I ran into the changing tent and an older woman came hobbling down to my corner of the tent. "I can help you change," she told me. I'm okay. Thank you. She insisted. My body seemed to be moving at light speed compared to her calm, slow movements. She handed me a pair of shorts. I actually don't need those. I've decided to wear these. I stuffed them back in the bag. She pulled them back out. I tried to get to my bag, but she would not let me lay hand to it; her frail hands pulled out my sunscreen. Thanks! I reached for the sun repellent but she pulled it away. "I can spray you," she spoke. You can't fight the system. I allowed her to spray, noting the spots she missed so I could go back over them. She handed me my shorts a second time. I don't need those; I'm going to wear these. My tone was polite, but more firm. I just wanted to get to The Thunder, my Felt DA4.
Finally, I shook the woman off and handed my bag off to a volunteer. A tunnel of cheers greeted me as I ran to my bike and mounted, immediately riding off into the day. I knew I would be on The Thunder for at least 7 hours, so I tried to start slowly, but the pace still felt like I was in the danger zone of drafting the rider in front of me. At mile 17, my legs picked up pace and I hammered my way to the halfway mark feeling strong and pretty. At mile 56, the halfway point, I hopped off my bike and found my emergency bag. In it, I had packed a banana and sunscreen. I painted my face, found room for the banana in my back pocket and resumed the ride.
Mile 73.1 approached and I bonked hard. At mile 72 I felt fresh as a daisy, though I did note I had not eaten in 2 hours. I tried to take a Honey Stinger gel to my lips, but I felt nauseous. Regret hit when my hamstrings cramped at the 73rd mile. I found a dirt pull out and parked my bike. As I tried to loosen my cycle shoes and savor each bite of the banana, a dark-haired man on a shiny red motorcycle pulled off next to me. "You good to go?" He asked. Just cramping. "Good thing you have a banana." He rode away and I watched as other cyclists passed me, all asking if they could do anything for me.
I thought I would find my energy after the pit stop, but it refused to come back. My legs felt like they were filled with lead paperweights. My teeth were grinding together as my feet continued to grind the pedals. I looked at a group of people standing at a stop sign with signs and cowbells. It took all the energy I had left not to stop and ask them for a ride back into town. And if I called my dad for a ride, he would get stuck in the race traffic. I might as well just finish the bike then I can call it quits. These were the only thoughts that kept me going through the heat as I watched others drop off like drunken flies.
"We must dance on the pedals again," an Australian voice came from the man next to me. He was young, in his early-thirties, a blue kit clothed his perfectly toned booty and whisps of golder brown locks peered out from under his helmet. Yeah, you go do your dance. I'm gonna huff and puff back here, Mr. Ironman.
I stopped at mile 95 to throw out my empty water bottle and replace it with a mix of thick, sugar-filled Powerade. My throat opened up as the sugar coated the walls and energized my tired legs. The open road continued on and I with it. Momentum began to return to my deprived body and I found comfort knowing that the ride was coming to an end. Only 17 miles to go... and we will start with a big A hill.
Push. Pull. Push. Pull.
All I saw were athletes falling to the ground, dry heaving in the shade and struggling to get to the top. At least I wasn't alone... or was I just in the first-timers' group with all the newbies? I reached the top of the hill and my legs cramped to the point of being unable to move. I stopped my bike and painfully clipped out. Resting my head on my bars, I tried to hide tears of pain and disappointment. Was this the end? Would I be able to move my legs again? A man asked if I would like to walk around and get the cramp out while he held my bike. I couldn't even imagine lifting my leg off of the bike though. Choking down some water and eating half of a Picky Bar seemed to minimize the cramping, so I got back on and pedaled toward the next elevation changing hill. Dance on those pedals, I did. I danced like Alex Owens earning her spot in the Pittsburgh Conservatory of Dance and Repertory. My heart was on my sleeve, along with my drool and snot.
With three miles to go, I could taste the victory. My bike started passing people on their bikes and it felt like smooth sailing... until I reached the last teeny, tiny hill and my legs cramped for the last time. This was the worst time. I stopped and barely could unclip. People passed chanting, "Only three miles!" I know it's only 3 miles! I can't do it. I literally cannot.
A kind gentleman came and put his hand on my back. "You doing alright?" He stayed with me while I waited for a medic. While I waited, I asked him about his life and forced water down my throat. After 15 minutes, no medic came and my legs were feeling a little better. I decided to give it my all and find that finish line. Smashing the pedals like there was no tomorrow, I passed everyone in front of me and made my way to the finish line. I watched as people who were dazed, confused and sunburned were helped off of their bikes. A woman came to help me, but I was already off, limping to T2.
"Ashlee, RUN!!!!! GET YOUR FEET UP! RUUUUUUUUN!" I knew that voice. That drive and encouragement was undeniably Sloan Campi. Pointing at him, my heart started jumping up and down, but I'm not sure that my feet followed. "YOU'VE GOT THIS!!!! RUNNN! GO!!!!!" Still limping and really wishing I could deny his urging me on, I picked up my speed and ran toward the track, where Amanda, Kaylee, my mom and my dad were waiting to take pictures and root for me.
To be continued...
You are just incredible, my dear. Can't wait to read the rest!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Roomie! Love you!
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