It’s hard to remember why I didn’t finish the Julian Death March now. Isn’t that funny? It was so clear Saturday afternoon, but all I’m left with now is, “How could you quit?”
The mind is an interesting machine; it forgets the painful stuff and leaves us wanting more. Forgotten is the way my legs felt after 63 miles and 8,600 feet of climbing. It’s hard to recall the way my stomach revolted against energy bars and how I had to force myself to swallow a GU packet to finish the Three Canyons climb. The memory of how bad my back hurt and how sore my whole body was as I pedaled back through Julian are completely gone.
All that’s left is the certain knowledge that I tried to do 85 and only got 63.
I’m supposed to be proud of myself. It was only a month ago that I rode my first 40-mile MTB ride, so getting 63 is pretty good. And I’ve just completed a tough block of work for Coach Colin who warned that this race was going to be tough and my power would be hard to find.
I am happy with finishing 63 miles. It was a tough day of climbing and I felt pretty good until the final 10 miles or so. But there is an asterisk next to my name – I didn’t finish the entire course.
I’ve got a lot of work to do between here and Leadville.