The Bittersweet Podium

At the last minute I had two race options for that Saturday.

Race in Columbia (MO) and see some friends, or race in IL and support a series I was super happy to have seen added to this year's 'cross schedule?

Circumstances had kept me from racing the previous 3 races in the latter series and this weekend would be the Finale.

I pondered and weighed my options for a while and finally decided that I really wanted to:

1. support all the hard work that Pride, Inc. had put into organizing this new series so that they did it again next year and maybe add even MORE races to the series; and


2. actually go for a podium instead of a mere finish.

(The latter was a fairly aggressive decision on my part and it might make you laugh when you find that I later actually stepped that goal up a bit as well...)

I had never entered any race aiming for the podium.

On that Friday, I joked with Tina and Judy that I was actually going to go for the win.

I could hear Jay blink over the phone when I told him.

I could feel him pat me on the head through the line like an adorable puppy.

I couldn't blame him really.

He hasn't exactly witnessed me being aggressive in a race but a handful of times.

Regardless, I had made up my mind.

(Wish I did this more often before races instead of the mind-fuckage I normally tango with...and I bet Dan will agree with this.)

Saturday dawned beautiful, sunny, and hot...for November.

The Sass and I drove out to the race singing loudly while lady bugs (or stink beetles) danced around the velowagon.

I can't lie, I don't know if they are lady bugs or stink beetles, but I detest those little fuckers. They bite and they were EVERYWHERE that week!

We pulled up to the park and the course was fantastically beautiful.

It was a magical place, this Glen Moore Park.

I threw on my skinsuit and registered.

I had a lady bug/stink beetle in my kit.

OUCH! WTF?!?!

We lined up to start and all was light and jovial.

The whistle blew and pretty much just like that, Stephanie dropped me like a bad habit.

Mentally I thought, "Dammit you *bleep bleepin' bleep bleep*!"

Outwardly, I groaned and had to hammer to chase...and make sure I held 2nd.

By the time we got to the steep hill, I was mentally ready to close the gap a bit, but when I dove into the descent and then started the climb, my IT band reached up and sucker-punched me right in the face and reminded me that I had run a few days earlier and how stupid that crazy-assed behavior is for a non-runner during cross season.

I could hear Jay screaming and my eyes got wide as saucers as I was suddenly unable to climb and had to run it.

FUTHER MUCKER!!!!!

This pissed me off.

Mentally, I had to battle my own stupidity and throw it away.

I came for a podium.

I am getting a dog damned podium.

Today.

This day.

And not just by a little.

I wanted a big fucking gap if I was going to take 2nd.

I did not want a close sprint with #3.

Screw that noise.

It was hot and it was a course that was tailored to a climber.

I was, for the most part, in my element.

With exception to what had become a run-up, I was pretty darn happy.

(Did I mention that there was a barrier at the top of that hill?)

Those are always super fun and not a place to bring small children whom you do not want to pick up $5.00 vocabulary words.

During one lap, I dropped my chain when I put down (read "dropped") my bike after a carry.

This wigged me because I knew that Nicole was now in 3rd and she is a runner.

Generally I will take her on the barriers, but not on this course.

All I had was my climbing and turning.

Gina calmed me down as I took off and hauled ass.

Matt D. told me which line to take in the back turn and I mentally got back on my game.

It was hot.

I was monitoring my water closely and without lap cards, I could not tell how far we had to go.

While racing, I yelled to Jay several times to see if he could find out so that I could pace correctly.

With 3 laps to go, I told Gina to tell Jay that I would need water as soon as finished the race.

I had 4 sips left and needed 6.

I had to quickly calculate my final recovery spots as I felt/watched the dehydration goosebumps cover my skin.

With 2 to go I got dizzy as I crossed the Finish and the course went blurry.

I had to shake it off and take the tiniest of sips.

Gina continued to cheer me on at the hell hill barrier.

(She rocks!)

...and had she been in this race, I would have taken 3rd...happily.

I was focused and could tell that I had widened the gap between Nicole and myself.

Something snapped in me.

The last lap was very different for me.

I could actually taste the competitiveness on my tongue.

It was a new taste.

It was not passive or bland.

It was sort of spicy and sweet all at once.

Like a cayenne infused dark chocolate truffle.

It was yummy and rich and I wanted to lick every last bit off my fingers slowly and chase it with a robust red wine...

Gina knew it was different when I made that last climb.

She could see it.

I was home.

I crossed the Finish and just to make sure, I actually made them say I was done before I would stop pedaling.

My head dropped and a small smile slowly crept across my quivering lips.

I rode over to my car and grabbed water immediately while The Sass jumped up and down about the magical stick bug she had found on the tree.

My body was not ready for the cold water and reacted less than gracefully.

I kept from puking and passing out.

(DOUBLE SCORE!!!)

I was high and sick and excited and sweaty (and I'm pretty sure stinky)...

...and I wanted to scream and dance and scream some more.

I mentally jumped up and down like an ADHD kid who just slammed a crack and Mountain Dew ice cream float...

(Red Bull ain't got shit on my energy at that exact moment!)

I hugged The Sass and Jay and grabbed my phone to text a few choice supporters (and/or anyone who might be shocked by the news) and was flying high...

Then it was time to focus on Jay's race.

It was a blast.

He got 2nd too and it was a pretty good day for Fulcrum Coaching.

As Jay was cooling off after his race, The Sass and I loaded the velowagon and waited to leave.

Just then, Tina (whom I had texted to tell her that I did in fact get the podium I had promised her the day before) called me.

I assumed she was calling to give me some playful ribbing about not winning.

I answered in my "I'm-so-happy-you-called-can-you-believe-this-shit?!?!" voice and she did not sound good at all.

"What's wrong, Sweetie? You don't sound well," I said to her.

"Cor, it's Kyle..."

I held my breath.

I felt my throat tighten and my eyes began to burn.

Her throat was raw with pain and devastation.

I could feel her green eyes burning red and swollen through the phone.

She didn't have the words out of her mouth before I knew.

I knew the sentence that was coming.

I tried to shut it out.

I tried to shut down time.

I tried to disappear inside of myself.

I looked in the rear view mirror at The Sass with her headphones on and knew I had to stay.

I had to hear it.

I looked past The Sass as Pride, Inc. tore down the recently beautiful 'cross course.

I watched the day vanish.

"...He didn't make it, Cor..."

I heard myself scream inwardly.

I felt the hot mess of salty pain running fast down my once happy face.

The day rolled backwards fast in my mind and I was standing on my desk and goofing off with her the day before.

Both of us happy and excited about the weekend ahead.

I knew I had to hold onto that image.

It will be a while before I will see my friend's eyes dance again...

I looked at my beautiful trophy and suddenly it all seemed so silly.

The next day, I raced Bubba for Kyle.

My only intent was to finish.

As I started day 2 of the November heat-wave cross weekend, I was emotionally drained.

I had cried all the tears I could.

I had relived all the pain tucked away long ago.

With 6 laps to go, I was done.

I was hot. I was tired. I wanted out.

Dammit.

I had said that I was racing for Kyle this day.

Kyle didn't get to finish.

He didn't choose.

If given the choice again, I'd put money on the fact that he would not DNF on his life.

What a slap it would be to quit right now.

Tears.

Tight throat.

Heat.

Panic.

I pulled it together.

I shut my mind down.

I somehow pulled it off and held my pace...and finished that race...

It hurt.

I was emotionally dead.

When it was over, I tucked it away.

Safe, where it could not hurt me for a few hours so that I could breathe.

I cannot bring myself to take his name off my bar tape.

I guess I will have to finish every race now.

It seems rather stupid and lame not to.

Thank you, Kyle. I am happy to share my first 'cross podium and every 'cross race with you, sweet boy.

In this small way, you will live.

You will finish.