Terrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day
Remember that book when you were little? It seems to have been written about my day yesterday.

Yesterday was the day of my big bike ride. The 100 miler. All the hardwork, training, build-up, and anticipation was to be resolved yesterday. I've been trying to think of the best way to go about telling the story here. I was hoping for a better story to tell. And maybe blogging about it will provide some therapy for me. But it was just a bad day. It's hard to make anything about it witty. I am angry, heartbroken, embarrassed, disappointed, and slightly severely depressed. I haven't slept much since yesterday, nor have I eaten much. Those of you who know me will know this is not normal, and not good for recovery from high activity.

I'm tired.

The ride started out well enough. It was cold, cloudy, and windy. But despite that, the first 40 miles were pretty good. Of course, the wind was at my back and it was mostly downhill. Which was nice. But that meant the wind would be in my face and the hills would be tough on the way back in. That really wasn't the worst of my problems to come, though.

At mile 47, my shoe broke. I'm assuming it was the bumpiness of the road, but at mile 47 I guess the last screw fell out of where the cleat attaches to the shoe, and my foot could not longer hold onto the pedal. I was in the middle of a climb up a hill on a busy highway. This was not good.

My first thought was to scream loudly at the large trucks and heavy traffic whizzing by on the highway. And after that my thought was, who breaks a shoe??? I mean, really. Who does that???

But I had no choice except to continue on, so I hobbled along for about 7 miles until I reached the next rest stop, using mostly my other leg that was still clipped into the pedal. The other foot kept slipping off the pedal since I could no longer clip in to the pedal, so I eventually had to stop using it to push.

At the rest stop, Friends S and L were there to be my Halfway Point Cheerleaders. I was glad to see them.

Friends S and L: Yay C.T.! How are you?
Me: My shoe broke.
Friends S and L: Uh... that's bad.

I had the people manning the rest stop call for the SAG wagon, hoping they would have some tiny screws to fix my shoe.

They had no screws.

But (and this is where it will be funny one day when I look back on it) the guy had some heavy duty velco. Yes, velcro. He may have been MacGuyver. But, I really didn't care. If it would keep my foot on the pedal for the next (what I thought would be) 46 miles, then please use all the velcro you've got, sir.

Friends S and L and I watched as he added velcro to the pedal, and velcro to the bottom of my shoe, and sure enough, it did the trick. Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to say I continued on my way using the first ever velcro-pedal system on a bike. I guarantee you Lance Armstrong never finished a Tour de France using velcro to keep his foot on the pedal.

Probably because he has shoes that don't break. But, whatever.

I left Friends S and L and biked onward. The velcro lasted about 10 miles, but then the glue stopped holding the sticky side of the velcro to the pedal. I had to stop again.

This time, the other SAG Bubba (aka rural Texas Good Ol' Boy) stopped to help me. I think the first SAG Bubba had alerted all the other SAG Bubbas to the plight of the girl with the velcro-ed pedal, because for the rest of the ride I saw a SAG Bubba drive by to check on me about every 15 minutes or so. I never saw any of them for the first 40 miles of the ride.

Anyway SAG Bubba #2 stopped to help. It went something like this:

Bubba #2: Velcro not work?
Me: The glue-y side stopped sticking to the pedal.
Bubba #2: You ready for me to give you a ride back to the finish, yet?
Me: (near tears) No, I'm not ready to quit, yet.
Bubba #2: (in good ol' boy drawl) You know, I think I got some wire in my truck that could fix that.
Me: That sounds good.

I mean really, at this point, why not?

So, Bubba #2 fished some wire out of his tool box and sure enough, he wired the velcro to the pedal well enough to get me on my way again. I tell you, these Bubbas are nothing if not resourceful. My bike was now officialy "white trash", but I was determined not to quit. If velcro and wire is what it takes to get me across the finish line, I am more than fine with that.

I made it another mile before I had to stop again to reattach the pedal to the velcro-wire contraption.

For the love....

I got it together again and continued on my way. By this time the wind was blowing so ridiculously hard that I hardly felt like I was moving forward at all. My goal at the start of the ride was to not finish last, which was a reasonable goal considering how many people were taking part in this ride. For the first 40 miles, I kept up with several groups. I skipped the first two rest stops and didn't stop until mile 40. And, when I left that rest stop I left quite a few people there, and continued to pass people who had not yet made it to the 40 mile rest stop, which was the turnaround point. Had I been able to continue on at full capacity (aka two good shoes), I have no doubt I would have finished in about 6.5 hours, and I would have finished well in front of the last stragglers.

However, due to the shoe repair needs, I had lost at least 45 minutes of ride time. And by now I was pretty well near the last of the riders. I was all alone. I saw no one in front, and no one behind me. It was getting late in the day. I was getting more and more discouraged. And tired from fighting the wind.

After what seemed like forever, I made it to the next rest stop. They were beginning to close up, since most of the riders had already passed through by now. It was at this stop that I noticed my other shoe was broken. The cleat was hanging on by one last screw, and when I finally got it out of the pedal, it dangled in such a way that nearly brought me to tears again.

FOR THE LOVE... who breaks TWO shoes... I mean, really.

There were two other guys there on bikes, watching me struggle with my now ultra-white-trash shoes.

Random bike dude: Hey, I think your shoe is broken.
Me: No, actually both of them are broken.
Random bike dude: Oh. That sucks.

The bike dudes pedaled off to finish the ride, with their four good shoes. I hated them.

I decided it was time to call Boy J, who was going to be waiting for me at the finish with Friends A and C. I calculated that I had 24 miles to go, and it was going to be slow going. Two bad shoes, lots of wind, and I was so frustrated that I was running out of energy. He could barely hear me over the wind, but I was trying to communicate to him that both of my shoes were broken, and that they didn't have to wait for me to finish. It would be about an hour, if nothing else broke. Fortunately I had no more shoes to break, but anything else was fair game for some breakage.

He asked if I wanted them to come get me. I said no, I'm not ready to quit, yet. I'm not willing to let this ride beat me twice, especially because of broken shoes.

He said they would be there waiting for me at the finish.

It's possible that he just couldn't hear my plea for them to not wait since I was unbelieveably late. I felt bad that they were waiting on me. But, hearing him say they would be there waiting finally did make me cry. My people are just too good.

Then I noticed some riders going back the way I had just come. I asked the guy at the rest stop which way I needed to go, and he pointed the opposite direction of the way those riders were going. Then he said something that just about completely beat me down.

Rest Stop Dude: (attempting to encourage me, as I'm sure I looked seriously pathetic at this point with my two bad shoes and look of pure desperation on my face) It's only about 10 more miles to the finish.
Me: Um, what?
Rest Stop Dude: You've only got 10 miles left.
Me: I thought I had about 24 miles to go.
Rest Stop Dude: Well, the course is only about 85 miles if you follow the map. Those guys that are going the wrong way are trying to add some extra miles to get in the full 100. But the route is only 85 miles.

You have got to be kidding me....

I looked at my map that clearly said "100 miles" at the top. I looked back at Rest Stop Dude. He smiled and nodded as if to say, "Yes, the map says 100 miles, but it's all a lie. You will only complete 85 miles today. But don't be made at me. I'm just the messenger. Here, have another fig newton."

If I'd still had two good shoes to work with, and if I hadn't had to waste 45 minutes of ride time fixing bad shoes, I would have backtracked for awhile to get in a full 100 miles. But at this point it was so late in the day that the ride officials were beginning to close down the route. And I was stuck with two bad shoes, and good friends waiting on me.

I had no choice but to head towards the finish, and I had 10 more miles to stew about how even though I would complete the ride for a second time, I would STILL not have my 100 miles.

This is when the crying actually did start.

I clumsily fastened my two bad shoes onto my pedals and left the rest stop. It was hilly, it was windy, and I was the last one out there, with the exception of a group about 100 yards in front of me. I hobbled along, extremely disheartened, but determined to make it to the Finish on my own.

The course closer vehicle came alongside me and drove with me for awhile. You know, you joke about things like hoping you aren't last. But in reality, even though it was a longshot at the beginning of the day to think that I would actually be the very last cycler cycling, I actually was that cycler. I was the straggler. But instead of hurrying me along or scolding me to finish so he could close the course, the guy in the closer car cheered me on and encouraged me to finish strong.

I felt like the "special" child that people let participate in a sport, but isn't expected to do well, yet people cheer for and help anyway. He was nice, and it helped to have him there, shielding traffic around me by driving slowly with his hazards on, and talking to me through the car window. It had been really lonely cycling through rural north Texas alone for the past 3 or so hours. I had gotten so far behind all the other groups because of the shoe delays, I had to rely on the course markings to find my way back. Fortunately, this situation was vastly improved over the ride two years agao. They had painted colored arrows on the pavement to direct the different routes. It was Tyrant-proof, really. Hard to miss giant flourescent green arrows on the road. Thankfully, they directed me back to the finish.

I rounded the last corner and saw an empty parking lot... save for the car containing my friends who waited faithfully for me to cross the Finish. They honked and cheered as I arrived and I stumbled out of my pedal contraptions to stop, as though I still deserved the fanfare of someone who finished well.

I can't say I responded with as much enthusiasm. I had to pedal away for a few minutes because I was mere seconds away from erupting in a fountain of tears. But they were the best thing I had seen in hours, and just what I needed to see at the end of a hellish day.

I am so thankful for all the support I have received over the past few months of training, and especially over the past few days of getting ready for the ride, and the day of the ride. My friends, family, and even my co-workers have surprised me with how interested they've been in my process of getting ready for the ride, and in sending me off with lots of good lucks and encouragement. My co-workers made signs for my cube on Friday, and they made a ribbon for me to wear on my jersey for the ride. Several friends met me for dinner the night before to carbo-load. And throughout my training, so many people have kept up with my schedule, asked me how it's going, and several people I work with even semi-adopted my food regimen of eating healthier and exercising more. It's been truly touching. Truthfully, I'm not used to so much positive attention.

The downside of that is that I now have to tell all of these people who anticipated a successful ride for me that I did not complete my goal. I did finish the ride, and all of the miles that were charted for the ride. But I still do not have my 100 miles. I had to stop short at 85. And it took me longer than it should have to complete that much, due to so many equipment delays. I haven't really spoken to anyone since yesterday, and those I have seen I've had to tell them I can't really talk about it yet. I even had to ask them to stop congratulating me. I don't feel like I deserve it. I didn't reach my goal, and I had a terrible time of it. Hopefully reading it here will curb their curiosity until I can talk about it. I appreciate their interest and good wishes, I just keep crying every time I think about it.

The amount of disappointment and frustration I'm dealing with right now is really overwhelming. I've trained twice for the same event, for 100 miles, and twice I have been unable to finish that, due to situations out of my control. All that hard work, no matter how prepared I was, I couldn't do it. I don't know whether to laugh, or just to keep crying like I have been since yesterday.

I have to go to work tomorrow and tell my co-workers the story. It's hard to face people who believe in you, and tell them you failed the goal.

I've been told that 85 miles is a big deal, and that everything else I had to deal with (broken shoes, wind, not enough miles on the route) more than makes up for not meeting my goal. And there is some truth to that.

But right now it just hurts that I came so close again, and still didn't get it. You know, you think if you work hard enough at something, and you train and workout a lot, you feel almost invinceable. Like, nothing can stop you. If I do all the right things, I will get this. But all it takes is a tiny screw to show you that you are actually completely fallable, and things start falling apart.

It never really occurs to you as you prepare that things you didn't think of or can't control will cause things to turn out differently than you pictured. If I do what is asked of me, if I follow instructions, it will be good. If things started good, there is no reason why they can't stay good or end good, right? But sometimes no matter how much work you put into it, it just doesn't go the way you want. You think you are doing the right thing, but somehow it's not enough. That never makes sense to me. And I'm not sure what I'm supposed to learn from it.

Maybe this is God's way of telling me I'm not supposed to go 100 miles. Or maybe that I need a new hobby.

Maybe I should look into shoe repair. I mean, really.

Who breaks a shoe?

C.T.