The finish line of the 2015 Crusher was right there.
“Just a bit more work, and a PR is in the books!”
The day had gone perfectly. Smooth roads. Cloudy skies. And legs that wouldn’t quit.
“You got this!”
All the day-dreaming had become real.
It was the best race I’d ever ridden.
“6 miles to–”
“No! No no no no!”
All gone. In the blink of an eye.
It was a strange flat tire. Not your standard puncture or sidewall cut. “You can hop in the truck.” said a course marshall. “Nah. It’s only 6 miles. I’ll hoof it.”*
I had some time to think while I walked, racer after racer zipping by. And I wondered:
Which is worse? Great legs ruined by a mechanical, or bad legs all day long?
In this case, the mechanical stung. I was only 20 minutes from the finish line. I was on pace to crush my current PR.
However, the legs were there. And legs don’t lie.
But still, that PR was right there.
I guess I’ll just need to show up next year and try try again.
*Eventually I got a tube that held just enough air. In all, I walked about 5 miles.