It was quite a grueling affair for all parties involved. I, being a wimp in many ways, am feeling pretty good about fulfilling my duties on sub-par sleep. More importantly, I am feeling excellent about how hard Dave worked for this. He was so well prepared, so disciplined, so serious. I think if he hadn't had trouble with his knee the last couple of weeks before the race, he would have felt a little stronger. But he was ready. He was damn ready. I loved every minute of it. Okay, I didn't enjoy every minute, but I loved every minute. Does that make sense? It's early, I can't tell.
I think we had too much going on in the pit. I'm naturally a high-strung person in intense situations, but I tried to tone it down for the race. After all, I wasn't the pit chief, so I had to hang back and be told what to do. I just didn't feel all that useful. Visine, butt butter, chapstick,
sunblock. I was responsible for the outer fluids. Thankfully, I didn't have to actually apply the butt butter, I just had to hand it to him. He gets soooo funny when he's delirious. At about 3:00 in the morning he got really loopy. He even tried to drink water out of a Handiwipes container. He needed sleep. I think we're still working on the balance between giving him what he thinks he wants in the midst of delirium and giving him what we think he needs in spite of what he wants. It could have been a bit smoother, but it was still great, given the circumstances.So he rode. He rode well. We were amazed that no one took out the cholla that was about fifteen feet up from our pit on the trail. I mean, really, 24 hours of riding, and no one even loses their composure enough to run into the bush? Jeez, what are the odds of that? So he did thirteen laps. I think it worked out to 208 miles. Solo. I cannot describe how proud I am of him. Not of the
distance, not of the top-15 finish, although those things are great, but just of my husband. His committment, his dedication, his spirit. I mean, this picture of his face is after the eleventh or twelfth lap! He amazes me every single day. The day after the race he rode again!! I don't know, I know I don't ride much, but I think if I had just ridden 208 miles in 24 hours, I probably wouldn't want to ride for a little while. Maybe it's just me. He is so completely enthralled by endurance racing. It's a beautiful thing to see him so happy even when he's so miserable, like at 3:00 in the morning during a solo 24-hour race. I'm gonna keep on keepin' on. I'm in it. I'm the CFO of this operation, but beyond the logistics, whatever he needs, I'm in it. I'm hooked. I'm in love.Sorry. Got a little sentimental there. Oh. Uh. I, uh, I mean I'm gonna ride this gravy train all the way to the bank, baby!! Woooohooooo!!!! I married him for his money, see? He just didn't know I could see the future, see? I...gotta go. Before I melt into a large pile of cheese.
Signing off. Peace.
-Sahrfrog the Polliwog
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