I looked everywhere for it. I didn’t care what shape or colour it was, as long it was there and in the right position. After searching for it for hours through pain, mental anguish and exhaustion, I finally saw it there, at the side of the road near the guard rail, somewhere between Wilmington Notch and High Falls Gorge.
My eyes widened as I saw the glint of the sun bounce off it. “There it is!” I thought. The perfect piece of glass—jagged and dangerous—just waiting for me.
I had found my way out.
All I needed to do was turn my handlebars to the right a few degrees. Simply run over it, and that would be the end of it. My tires would be shredded to bits, and I’d be stranded. The support crew would have to pick me up and drive me back into town, and I could get off that damn bike.
“Ohhh, what if I fell on the glass! That’d be better!”
But I kept on riding. I wasn’t going to let it happen again; there would be no repeat performance from the grade 3 cross country running escapade where—after about 15 minutes of the race—I found some acorns on the trail on which I could “trip” to end my race and get me a ride to the finish.
“C’mon you bastard! Not this time,” I said to myself, and, inadvertantly, to the other riders around me. I pushed and pulled on the pedals a little harder, a little smoother, and with a bit more determination, but still wondering if I was going to make it.
My family joined me at the finish line – they had been waiting all day; Kathryn had finished her race an hour and a half earlier. While carrying one sleeping daughter, holding hands with the other (who was still wide awake), and Kathryn following while carrying our son (also sleeping), I crossed the finish line in 16 hours 35 minutes and 48 seconds.
I am lost for words. Awesome is about the only one that springs to mind.