The obligatory pre-race photo, with Tommy, our "wrench" for the weekend.
Coming into the last lap...
The mountain scenery on the drive up was beautiful.
The torrential rainstorms soaked the course, and created rivers and puddles in solo pit row.
Sunrise over the last hill on-course.
Tommy gets some much-deserved rest.
A section of the course, between km 2 and 3, where the roots like to jump up and grab you...
The drive up to Canmore for Mike's
24 hrs of Adrenalin World Solo Championship race was absolutely beautiful. We were surrounded by such intense beauty - the mountains seemed to reach to the sky - like jagged, vicious teeth looking to swallow the clouds....
We arrived on Friday the 25th, with time to set a few things in our assigned pit, then suit up to pre-ride the course. Tommy accompanied us to "wrench" for the race, so he and I rode a lap together. Man! Tough course. It was riddled with rooted sections that seemed to sneak up to rip my wheels out from under me, and technical climbs that later would prove to be extremely slick when the rains came in over the course of the 24 hour race.
All over the course we saw signs that warned of bear sightings. Morning of the race brought announcements from the organizers reporting sightings on-course, and instructions to report any sightings ASAP. Ugh. Luckily we didn't see any.
The race started uneventfully. Mike held first place until around 11pm, when a BMC factory rider from Australia took the lead by about 2 minutes or so. Then the downhill slide began. Mike ran into technical difficulties with his light battery, which cost him a TON of time on an overnight lap. That, and his fitness being less than what he'd counted on meant that he slid to 3rd place by the morning. But, to be able to podium in a world championship race with less than 10 hours of training a week, against the Australian national team, is pretty damn good. I'm extremely proud of him. His guts, his talent, his perseverance.
I was actually thinking during the race how being a pit crew is almost as bad as racing. We spent our 24 hours worrying about how he was doing out there - especially when the thunder, lightning, and rainstorms continued to plague the race. I spent time checking the clock: what's his split? what's second place's split? what's he eaten? is he feeling okay? how's his hamstring? WHAT DOES HE NEED? I was anxious - I wanted him to be successful - for his sake...whatever "success" happened to be for him.
A day after the race, in the comfort of our own bed, I asked Mike what the hardest part of the race is. He said it was the hardest thing he's ever done - harder than his previous three 24 hour races and his two Ironmans. THAT said a lot to me. And then it got me wondering why we do this. Why do we race? I guess we could use the cliche: we do it to push ourselves to our limits, to see where that line between the possible and the impossible lies. But this race, with my 24 hours to dwell on all my thoughts while surrounded by perhaps the most beautiful scenery ever, made me realize how blessed we are to be able to do this sport we do. It takes us to some pretty amazing places, to face some pretty amazing competitors, to find out some pretty amazing things about ourselves.
Pretty cool.
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