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Chris Matthews's Journal
your what hurts?
posted by RoubaixRider at 00:12 on August 16, 2008
Suffer if you need to,
suffer to be beautiful.
Suffer.
Suffer.
-FCR
Shelled. Destroyed. Decimated. Cooked. Cracked. Shattered. Obliterated. I've turned myself inside out so many times there is only one explanation: I must be a mobius strip. But despite my being all these things, and more synonyms like them, I am also one other important thing: I am still here.
Today was not the longest day, it was only 102 km. It didn't have the most climbing, there was only 2998 meters to ascend today. But the day that was longer had less climbing. The one day that had more climbing wasn't as long. So today cooked up a nice balance of "how'd ya like these apples?" Particularly fun was the 1200m of climbing on three brutal sections of trail, all nestled between 85km and 93km. I wasn't tired at that point or anything, so that was about as awesome as a ripe peach on a summer day. I am, of course, lying through my dirt-gritted teeth. The mid-day sun roasting us like chickens on a spit in a Canadian Swiss Chalet memory, this was the day when I really got put into the proverbial hurt locker and found out just what I was made of. Which apparently was enough mettle to make the finish, but not enough metal to fully defend myself against this much abuse. I didn't cry, but I didn't really feel like singing to myself either. I did manage to squeeze out a solid finishing effort across the final 4 or 5 km's, and while it still took us over seven hours today, we finished looking strong, which has to count for something. Dunno what exactly, but something.
Cush was, as is now typical, riding strong and waiting for me at the tops of the climbs. Again props to him for not leaving me for the bears. He easily could have.
While I was out there, I definitely dipped into a reserve of energy that came from the support and encouragement of friends & family. Something like this is hard enough, I can't imagine doing it without a teammate, or without the help, and at times, sacrifice, of the nice folks around me over the past 6 months or so. Since I decided to try this thing, I've had nothing but encouragement. I needed all of it today, so for those of you out there, and you know who you are: thanks. And a special shout-out to my lady, who has put up with months of short-shrifted weekends due to my sometimes goofy training schedule. She absolutely rules.
Tomorrow I open the ziploc bag with my last clean jersey, shorts, and socks. It has a big number 7 written on it in black sharpie, days 1 through 6 opened and sweated into over the past week. I am looking forward to opening that last ziploc, and finishing this thing tomorrow. It's every bit as hard as I expected it to be, which is to say, that it's way harder than I imagined it would be. But it's a fine way to see the interior of BC, that's for damn sure.
One more day. Still chasing the one rule: No crashing.
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