Cycling History

There used to be an annual gathering in SoCal and I went to my first one...SD72. We camped up in the mts outside San Diego and rode for three days. Day 2 as we were SCREAMING down Noble Canyon on a flat smooth section of singletrack, out of nowhere, I crashed. I yelled as I went down and all I know is I was lying on my right side with my camelback hooked around the valve stem of my front tire, and the bike on top of me. I hurt bad, really bad, but was only 1/3 way down the mountain so I got up and rode it off. I was pretty sure it was just a bruised hip. Monday I went to the Dr and had xrays on my hip...it was fractured. I was devastated as the Dr told me that it would take 6-8 weeks to heal. The Brian Head Epic 100 was 2 weeks away. I thought long and hard the next few days about what to do. What could I do? I'd put hundreds of hours into my, "Death Marches". My friends Bonnie, Randy, Jen, Andi, Mark, and my husband Derek had all been helping me ride the long miles. Derek and I had done a trial the week before...a 50 mile loop in 90 degree weather with who knows how many thousand feet of climbing.

So I raced. I doubted my choice as I got there because I couldn't even walk up the steps to registration comfortably. The race went as could be expected...I took more advil than I should have (somewhere in the teens), got a bloody nose for miles 82-85, spent at least half an hour at the third aid station...they actually told me to leave because I was there too long. The only good thing, is it hurt worse to walk than it did to ride, so I rode almost everything.

Here I am approaching the last aid station.


And here is my medal for winning. I look thrilled, don't I?



This race was cursed for me. First this hip problem, then the next year I would come down with a death like illness that left me screaming, puking, snotty, and crying. I never raced it again.