*hack* Albion *hack* *hack*

This race will forever be engrained in memory as the day I raced sick.

It started at the pre-ride. I assumed I’d inhaled a little too much dust as the coughing was persistent all through that evening. The next day it continued. And the day after. Finally, I went to see a doctor about the whole thing as it seemed a little unusual.

That was Thursday. By Sunday, I was a total mess. I’d almost entirely lost my voice, and my nights were spent awake trying to douse the flames burning in my throat. My body seemed determined to evict my lungs and esophagus.

I could barely climb a flight of stairs … how was I going to ride a mountain bike race?

I took another dose of Benylin, a couple throat lozenges and saddled up for the warm–up. I was a phlegmy mess and my heart rate was stuck around 120.

Lining up with the rest of the girls I couldn’t help but think “what I am doing here?” But as Joe says, someday, there will be a make-or-break race and at least now if I’m sick for that day, I’ll know what to expect.

I threw out all my usual race goals and replaced them with just one: finish.

On the first lap, as my heart rate began to rise, I felt I quite literally had hit a wall. The room in my lungs seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. I pushed the pedals round and round for 2 laps, 3 laps, and finally the last lap arrived.

Determined to feel I’d accomplished something I set a new goal to make my last lap my fastest and just kept pushing through the pain. By then, my throat was no longer sore, my legs were still fresh and the space in my lungs was being won over by my will to pull something out of this.

I crossed the line, last, and all the things I’d been running from immediately caught up with me. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say, it wasn’t pretty.

So what did I learn? I can do it. Even when I think I can’t walk to the parking lot, somewhere inside me there’s a girl who just wants to ride her bike.