Two weekends ago, I finished an event I’ve had on my calendar and Journey List for over a year. Conquering the Athens to Savannah Double Century was a double victory.
12 hours before the start of ride– this event that I’ve been training and gearing up for steadfastly for the last six months– I was pretty sure I was going to have to quit before I started.
Forget carbo-loading, I was carbo-purging.
All plans and expectations were flushed.
From the jaws of defeat
I was felled by a wicked bug. Bed bound and completely drained, my evening edition headline reads: Microscopic triumphs over big, strong, trained self.
By grace of the Universe I awoke at 4am and was able to swallow down some toast. I packed my gear and collapsed back into bed. After a short, fitful nap I got up at 6:30, swallowed a little coffee, and rode out to the start.
Clammy, weak and unsettled, I mounted my trusty steed surrounded by 70 other riders but feeling very alone.