24-9: So, About That Fork...

It's not often that I go to write a race-recap and sit and watch the cursor blink and blink, unsure of how to start or what exactly to say. Generally, for better or worse, I write without premeditation and close the laptop without pause. This recap is proving to be quite different.

During the race, I felt a sort of confirmation that the work I have put in over the last three years has systematically been paying off. Sunday morning, I was a small mess and as disappointed as I have ever been after a competition. Sunday post race was full of 'what might have been,' but Monday morning had turned to thoughts of redemption and 'what's next?'

For roughly 14 hours or so, I held second place during the 24hrs of 9 Mile. Sam and Johnny were outstanding as a pitcrew and, as usual, friends. While I fought cramps for laps two, three and four, they helped me adjust and readjust my food and fluids on the bike. I was also cleaning nearly all of the technical sections on the course so a quiet confidence settled into my mind. We weren't discussing where I actually was in the standings, but the guys would say encouraging things like, "Dude, you're flying" and "Way to keep the laps consistent." For my part, I just tried to be smooth and steady. I remember telling Sam that I felt like I could ride faster but didn't think I should and we just rolled with that into the night.

Looking back, a couple of moments standout during that first 14 hours. The first was passing Constantine. Not because I felt embolden, but because I was surprised to see him, then I just assumed he would rally and come back. (Way to keep keeping on, Gus.)

Another was having Josh Tostado come flying by me in a tight tree section. It was memorable for two reasons. The first was how he handled the bike. He danced his rig in and out of an awkward zig-zag scar of a trail that was a thing of beauty. The second was simply what time it was. I knew it had taken the geared leaders a lot longer to catch me than they had taken in the two previous years, so again, I felt more confident.

The Wicking Snappy Cap Prototype. Passed the test with flying colors.

Finally, someone broke the ice and mentioned I was in 2nd place. I am not really sure who or why. It just happened naturally. 45 minutes out of first and about 15 minutes ahead of my pit neighbor and friend, Joe Partridge. I can't remember what lap it was, but do remember thinking that I still felt good and started to plot out how I could try to make time up to first. I was also a little concerned about whether or not I had eaten enough calories and wished I had brought a wider variety of food. Nothing sounded good.

On the course, the only thing that had changed was that I was walking a few of the technical sections. It seemed sensible as, while I felt good, I knew I was a bit more sloppy and wasting energy fighting my way through them. I'd also nearly gone down hard on the last rocky technical section and that likely made me a touch conservative for a while.

Hopefuls

The end of lap 9 or 10 was when Constantine passed me back. I was a bit shocked and a little proud of how fast he passed me at that moment. We talked a bit and I remember him saying the adrenalin had him driving but I have no idea what I said back. Probably not much that made sense.

My hands had started to disintegrate but were also recovering on smoother sections of the course, so I hadn't really gotten concerned. Just plotting how to handle it and when to try to 'go xc' and run some hot laps.

Thundering herd

There was really no going from bad to worse, in regard to my hands. The end came within the course of a lap. There was a long gravel section roughly a third of the way through the course which occurred after the longest section of rocky single-track. My hands had previously fully recovered during this section but didn't seem to come back this time. So, while my legs still carried me up the climbs, my hands, and therefore my control, were fading fast.

When I ended the lap, Sam and I made the call to switch the switchblade for some squish.

"It'll cost us about fifteen minutes."

"I'm not finishing without it. Not even sure what happens with it."

He got to work and I ate and watched for anyone in my class to go by. I kept expecting to see Joe, then got worried about him when I didn't.

I went back out without having lost a place. Unfortunately, I was still struggling with grip. Not far into the first single track section, the course did a odd-angled 'S' curve and, though I squeezed, the bars left my hands, ending in my flipping into a tree and falling upside down into a hole.

I fumbled my way to my feet and shook out, massaged, and slapped my hands against a tree. Nothing. I'm still surprised at how rational and calm I was at the moment. I just trolled the trail in reverse and headed back toward the pits. It still feels strange to have plugged the plug in third place.

Sam impersonating the top of a track and field trophy

When I got back to the pit, Sam wasn't very surprised to me. "That course is fucked. One lap is enough to jack you up." He wasn't trying to make me feel better, just calling it like it was.

I sat falling in and out of sleep for quite a while at the pit. Sam offered to take me to the hotel. Mrs Snob offered to come get me, but I really didn't want to move. Finally, after the sun broke, I called Susan and asked her to come get me. I walked down to Red Bud road and just kept walking onto the pavement. When the War Wagon came into sight, I could feel the emotion starting to take over and when I climbed into the car, I broke down for a short cry. It only lasted about twenty seconds, but it felt pretty good.

Any 'Mr. Obvious' will comment that I should have ran suspension and I have already gotten both polite and not-so-polite 'I told you so' comments from people, but it is what it is. I made a researched and educated guess I could pull it off and I was wrong. That's racing and props should go to the guys who hammered it for 24. They made good decisions and got it done.

Since the race, Susan's been quick to point out the positives. I had the legs to potentially hit the podium and I have only done three 24 hr races, so I don't completely 'suck.' In fact, she's already suggested adding an early season 24 to another 'Nationals' run next year to get things dialed in.

She's smarter than I am, so I'll probably listen to her.