After coming down pretty hard after a terrific race weekend, Monday brought on a wave of uncertainty. Not only was my ‘cross high fading, but my bank account was running dry. The hope I once held for finding a job had withered into dust.
But Tuesday was the game changer…
I had been out of my “working interview” for almost 3 hours when I got the call. I wasn’t supposed to hear anything until Friday, but they liked me. I said yes. I cried. I drank a bottle of wine, strolled down Haywood for an amazing dinner, and fell asleep with a smile on my face. Tuesday was good. And Wednesday was icing on the cake.
I took part in my first Crosstown Velo training race on Wednesday night. A, B, and C categories, with men and women lumped together. This course was completely FLAT with wide open straights and sharp corners. Definitely a power course. It’s been my experience that I do not perform well in this type of race, so I was mentally prepared for a solo 30 minutes of pity and suffering.
My legs had other plans.
I was never alone. I waited to make my moves and I dug deep. I fought for positions. I drove my bike like a seasoned vet. I powered through the open sections. I never crashed. Each lap felt better. And the leaders didn’t touch me till the last lap. It was more than I had hoped for. I was second female in the B race…a complete shock. I didn’t know who my legs belonged to anymore.
I woke up yesterday morning, well before the roosters, to volunteer my medical services to Pisgah Monster Cross. Chico and I spent a little quality time cheering, heckling, and patching up a few riders. I had the privilege of watching my friends in their own personal gut check moments. Having participated in this race last year, I could almost feel each cyclist amidst their internal battles. “Do I quit?” “Why did I sign up for this?” “Can I keep going, even though this next climb is going to crush my soul?” I asked all the same questions and even had an emotional breakdown at mile 30.
But watching it from the outside inspired me in ways I never imagined. You ALL are beautiful in your suffering. Thank you, Eric, for allowing me to be part of that.
As I sit on the front porch and think about all the things I am grateful for, I can’t help but smile. This is merely my moment of ascending on this rollercoaster ride, but I want to hang on to it for as long as I can. THIS is what happiness is and THIS is worth every tear. THIS is worth every sleepless night. THIS is worth the sacrifice.
And THIS is why we keep trying. Never give up.