I haven’t done an Ultra Post in a while. We pick it up as I get off my bike after the 275 K ride.
Day Two and a half
Part A: Freshly Laid (Recovery Gone Wrong)
Just like the day previous, my preparation for the next day of the Ultra came as soon as I hit the finish line. After some hugs and pictures, and a call to Bruce Wenting in Mission, my crew and I focused on preparing for the 84 kilometre run that loomed ahead on Monday. Job one was to get me off my feet and re hydrated
And although you may think that I would be sick of sugar and caffeine after almost eleven hours out there, I was happy to quickly down a can of Coke. Then things started to go wrong, but how can things go wrong when you are already done the day’s race?
The thing that I failed to do right after getting off my bike was go straight to the massage table sign up sheet. That was a big mistake. The folks that finished their rides after me did that and were able to get their massage right away. I, however had to wait for an hour. This hour had a cascading effect on the rest of the whole event – strange, but true. Here is how it happened.
After an hour of waiting around and wasting away after the ride, having nothing but water, Gatorade, and potato chips to refuel me, I finally made it to the massage table. Although I thoroughly benefited from the massage, it took an hour. My crew and I were the last people to leave the finish line area. By this time, it was about two-and-a-half hours since I finished the bike and that refueling window was slammed shut.
Day Three: Part A – The Last Supper
Despite having a great massage and a supportive crew around me, I was pissed off and feeling hopeless. To compound my foul mood, my left knee was killing me. I thought to myself there was no way I would be in any shape to take on my very first double marathon that was about to begin in about eleven hours. After some confused and spirited discussions among my crew members, there was finally a decision about where we could eat. Food was going to happen, eventually.
The nice thing about Princeton is that it is a pretty small town and finding the place we were going to eat at was very easy. That was a blessing, and so was the amazingly quick service that we received at the Princeton Grill and Bar. The problem was however, that I wasn’t really hungry.
As you can see here,
I sat in a zombified state watching people eating and drinking and talking around me as I dreaded the next 24 hours of my life.
To end off the night at the Grill and Bar, we all shared a piece of cake to celebrate my brother’s birthday. While we were starting to sing Happy Birthday to him, Steve King, Steve Brown, along with their friends and family all joined in. How could you not be happy after something like that? Unfortunately, I rose to the occasion. I stumbled out of the bar and into Kevin Watt’s truck mired in a sea of self-pity and fear. I was pretty quiet on my ride back to the motel.
